Spot of Luck
by sayaXIII
Summary: Stupid Jack and his stupid bet. Right now my summer consists of the strike and dealing with a pain-in-the-butt newsie. Oh, and trying to make Spot fall for me. I mean, my name's Artemis for crying out loud! I swear, I'm going to get Cowboy. SpotxOC
1. Escape

**Hey...a second fanfic! :D This was actually the first one I wrote, but I just haven't put it up until now because...fanfiction hates Macs. 3**

**Any ways, this is a SpotxOC-ish fic. :D Cuz in addition to David and Race, I love Spot! Mostly Spot. Sorry Racy 'n' Davey. -hugs-**

**Please let me know what you think! I will leave you a special thank you in another chapter! ^_^**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the movie is not mine. Only Artemis, Napper, Flyer, Red, and Lark belong to me. Steal and die! (**

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Ch. 1 - Escape

I raced down the dark streets of Manhattan, away from the officer pursuing me. My breath came hard and fast, but I tried to kept as still and quiet as I could as I turned and raced down an alley. I turned left then right and halted, listening as the officer's footsteps thundered past my hiding place.

Why was I running? Simple: I had climbed the wall of the orphanage and landed right on top of him. Smooth, right? It's a good twenty feet to the ground from the top. So while getting up is easy enough, I didn't exactly fancy the landing. So I landed on the officer standing guard as a cushion. Yeah, yeah, smart. Shut up.

I listened for any returning footsteps while I tried to slow my breathing. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Not quite at the critical point. Yet.

Sure that the coast was clear (finally), I walked out, following the direction the officer had gone until I came out onto a street. I didn't recognize any of the buildings, but maybe that was because the mistresses at the orphanage didn't believe that "civil young ladies" should know the streets well.

I grinned at the thought. When the Head Mistress Violet had found out about my knives, she had promptly confiscated them "before I could do myself further harm. And so that I could be 'rehabilitated.' Properly." Obviously she thought I couldn't, or wouldn't, use them that well. It was simple enough to pick the locks on her door and desk where she had hidden them.

I kept walking down the street and turned when I saw a statue of a man sitting in a chair.

There were a few street kids sleeping on and around the statue. I walked closer, being as quiet as

I knew how. The kids around the statue were all fairly young, probably around ten or eleven. I

looked past the sleeping kids to the building behind the statue.

The Newsboys Lodging House. Perfect.

This was Manhattan I was in, so I knew it would be a bad idea to sleep in the actual house with only boys. I looked around the building and found an alley with some empty boxes stacked along the wall. These could serve as a bed. I walked over and plopped down on some and opened the sack I had been carrying on my back. I checked to make sure everything was there. My knives and their respective sheaths – five in all – two arm braces for carrying knives in my sleeves, a black coat, grey cabby cap, and ten dollars in an assortment of bills and change. I smiled at the money; I had stolen it bit by bit from the orphanage's treasury. All that money sitting there in a box with no lock, to be used for more frippery and frills. Gag.

Checking to make sure no one was coming (although it was the dead of night, who was going to care?), I carefully drew two cords over my head from around my neck. From one of the thin cords hung a small wooden cross. It held no religious value for me; I didn't particularly feel like believing. There was only sentimental value in the hand-carved charm from my brother to me. A brother who hadn't even been related to me, but a brother in every way that had mattered. "So that you can always fool those 'crazy old biddies,' eh, Artemis?" Brett would say with a wink. I wiped at eyes that watered.

From the other cord hung a small silver locket. I traced my finger over the small flower pattern around the edge. My mother's locket; mine since her death. I opened it carefully. Inside was a small painting of my mother, her green eyes-the only thing I had inherited from her smiling out at the world, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. On the other side of the locket was a small photo of Brent. He, too, smiled out a me, his blonde hair in disarray around his head. But of course, no one would know the color of his hair, his eyes, his shirt, anything, because the photo was black and white.

I put both of the necklaces back around my neck and concealed them under my shirt. Using my bag as a pillow, I stretched out on the boxes and looked up at the stars. All was quiet in my little alley. No footsteps disturbed the quiet. Closing my eyes, I drifted off into sleep.

* * *

It wasn't the sun that woke me up the next morning, even though it did reach me. No, it was the noise of the news boys as they clattered out of the lodging house and out onto the street. They were laughing and joking with each other as they walked.

I hesitated. Should I just follow them, or did I need to talk to one of them? Maybe the one with the black cowboy hat, he looked like he was relatively in charge. Maybe I should ask the shorter newsie with the cigar in his mouth? Then there was the problem of my sack. What was I supposed to do with it during the day?

My eyes lit upon a boy with curly brown hair and a crutch under one arm. Didn't look like he was faking it, but who knows? He looked harmless enough (harmless, now there's a joke) so I picked up my pack and wandered over to him.

"Hey," I said, tapping him on his shoulder. I had to reach up a bit to do it (I'm slightly small, okay?). His eyes widened a bit at the sight of me. I guess it was my eyes. Not everyone likes them. "Um...you're a newsie, right?"

"Yeah. Da name's Crutchy. Nice ta meet cha," he said, pausing to offer me his hand. I shook it.

"Artemis," I replied. "So, are there any girls among you guys, or are we not allowed?"

"Oh, dere's some goils here," Crutchy smiled at me. "Here, I'll take ya over ta Jack."

As we walked I got the feeling he was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Certainly the other boys had noticed, and where calling out things like "Hey Crutchy! Who's a goil!" or "Looks like Cowboy's got another stray!" Hmph. I object to being called a stray. I object firmly.

So firmly that I chose to stare at the ground and not say anything.

"Hey Jack!" Crutchy called as we neared the boy with the black cowboy hat.

"Hey Crutchy," the boy-Jack, I thought-replied. "Who's that?"

"Dere's a goil here who wants ta join us." As Crutchy explained Jack looked me over quickly. I realized I was doing the same thing as his brown eyes met my green ones. I looked down. He looked friendly enough, with his blonde hair, red bandana, and cowboy hat. I mean, how many people would wear a cowboy hat as a newsie?

"Jack Kelly," Jack said as he spit into his hand and offered it for a shake.

"Artemis," I said, doing the same. I twitched mentally at the thought of the germs.

"So Crutchy says you want ta be a newsie." It was a statement more than a question.

I shrugged. "It's what I can do, besides theft, and I don't see many people out hirin' a thief." I looked away as I said this. Meeting people isn't always that easy for me, even if they are as easy to meet as Jack obviously was.

Jack laughed. "Well, we've got a few goils here. There's Flyer and Red over there-" he gestured to a blonde girl and a redhead "-Lark's still at the Lodging house. Hey Race, where's Napper?"

"How would I know Cowboy?" quipped the shorter newsie walking on his other side. "I ain't seen her since last night. She's pro'ly still sleepin'." He talked around the unlit cigar in his mouth, his speech slightly obscured.

"Artemis, dis is Racetrack. Race, Artemis," Racetrack nodded as Jack introduced us. "Don't mind him. He lost at the tracks yesterday is all." Jack laughed and nudged Race. Ah. That would explain the frowning. Lovely.

"Ah, shaddup Cowboy," Race shoved back, smiling. I guess they don't hate each other... "So...What exactly is goin' on here?" I asked, trying to avoid the awkwardness. (Besides, I don't know what I'm doing.)

"Well, right now wese goin' to da distribution centah," said Crutchy, still hobbling along. I dropped back to walk with him. "We get our papes from Weasel. He's da guy dere. Den wese goes abou-" I didn't get a chance to hear what Crutchy would have said, because at that moment two guys came from behind and grabbed me. I felt my heart stutter for a beat. I hated surprises.

"Hey!" I yelled. The hands on my shoulders spun me around until I faced two nasty, sneering faces.

"Who's da new goil here?" the first one asked, shoving his face waaay too close mine.

"Not anuder newsie?" He sneered.

"Ha, yeah, caz goils can't work," the other one laughed. _He has a mustache_, I thought in a detached sort of way. _Ew. I hate mustaches._

"So what's your name, sweetface?" the first one asked. I guessed he was the talker of the two. They had to be brothers. No one could be this foul and not be related in _some _way.

"Hey, Jack!" I heard someone-Race?-yell. "Da Delanceys are pickin' on da new goil!" I stared up at the first brother. _Joy, now someone's gonna come save 'da poah widdle Artemis.'_ I thought, disgusted. _Again._ My veins started tingling as I contemplated picking a fight with this boy. He was taller than me, yes, but he looked cocky. Like he wouldn't expect me to fight, or at least not well. Maybe I could just break his pinky, something small. I gave him my blandest, most meaningless smile as I reached behind me for the small knife wedged between my belt and my shirt, hidden by my bag.

"Hey, what's goin' on heah?" Jack's voice asked from behind me as his hand sat lightly on my shoulder. "You boys pickin' on Artemis?" So much for my happy thoughts. I let my hand drop. The second brother seemed to notice. I ignored him.

"So yous got another newsie, eh, Cowboy?" the first one sneered. "Pretty lookin' little thing. Yoah new pet?" I felt Jack's hand tighten on my shoulder for a moment.

"Pet, Oscah?" Jack asked. "Kinda like how Morris here's yoah pet?" The first one's – Oscar's – face darkened as his hands balled up into fists. Morris frowned. Then Oscar swung at Jack.

I ducked, letting his fist sail over my head as I rammed forward, punching him as hard as I could in the stomach. He doubled over, wheezing. I stood behind him, watching as the other brother fought with Jack, although I couldn't say it was really a fight. Morris kept swinging wildly at Jack as Jack kept dodging. The rest of the newsies had gathered around. I heard Racetrack yell out a bet as everyone shot it down. I guess this was normal for them.

Oscar stood up and this time decided to swing at me. Caught off guard, I stumbled back, barely avoiding getting a black eye. I swore under my breath as he fell, catching me in the process.

Down we went, a tangled, messy lump. I flailed about, acting like I didn't know what I was doing. Jack came over and pulled Oscar off of me.

"Ya don't fight goils, ya lousy punk," he berated him. He shoved him away before offering me a hand up. "You all right dere, Artemis?"

"Yeah," I gasped. "Fine. Stupid ground _hurts._" He grinned at me.

"You don't sound so fine."

"Ah, shaddup Cowboy," I said, mimicking Race's earlier comment. "Let's just go." As Jack laughed and walked on, I saw the two Delanceys scurrying ahead of us.

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** So................yes?**


	2. A Day of Woik

**And...it's the second chapter! :D Enjoy.**

**Insert disclaimer here**

**Artemis, Flyer, Lark, Red, and Napper are mine.**

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The distribution center was a noisy, crowed place. All the newsies crammed into the area behind the gate, lining up to get papers. Jack walked up the ramp first as the two Delancey brothers went through a door next to him. I saw Jack knock against the wood behind the bars separating us from whoever was behind it.

I stood behind some newsies I didn't recognize. One wore a pink shirt, one had a brown cap over brown curly hair, and both were boys. They were chatting back and forth, joking with each other.

"Hey," a hand tapped me on the shoulder. I looked behind me into a pair of brown eyes.

The girl behind me blinked, clearly startled. "Youse da new goil? I'm Lark, by the way." She extended a hand.

"Artemis," I said, shaking her hand. At least she didn't spit first.

"You want ta sell with me today?" she shrugged her shoulders, as if it didn't really matter to her.

"Sure." She nodded and I turned back to walk up to a scruffy looking man behind the bars.

His eyes raked over me, appraising another worthless life.

"How many papes?"

"Um...I'll take thirty, if you please." Damn those stupid old ladies and their stupid manners. Always drilling them into my poor little head.

"Thirty papes!" The man called out to the two Delanceys as I slipped him the money for my papes. As I collected my papes, waiting for Lark, I scanned the crowd. Almost everyone here was a boy. I'd heard Brooklyn had more people, more girls. Maybe I should have gone there first. I frowned at myself. I had to be able to actually sell papes first. I clattered down the steps, papes under my arm.

"Hey dere new goil," the newsie with the cap appeared in front of me. "What's yoah name?"

I peered up at him. He had friendly brown eyes, and curly brown hair. "Artemis."

"Me name's Mush," said Mush. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Mush?" I asked dryly. "That's...pleasant." His mouth twitched. Oops. Hope I haven't offended him.

"You been introduced ta everybody yet?"

"Not really. Why? You gonna do the honors?" I offered him a smile. People generally like it when I do that. Usually.

"Shoah thing, sweetheart," he grinned. Manhattaners, apparently, are friendly. Approach with a smile. "See da kid with da patch on his eye? That's Kid Blink. Dere's Race and Jack-" I nodded, two I already knew. "-Crutchy, Snipeshooter, Boots, Skittery, Itey, Bumlets, Dutchy, and Specs. I think de others left already." My eyes flicked everywhere, trying to keep up. Doubtless I would need reminding later.

"Hey Mush, what're ya doin' to da new goil?" I recognized Lark's voice behind me. "Youse hittin' on her already?" She waggled her eyebrows at him. Joy. A player in the newsies.

"Ah, be quiet Lark, what're you complainin' about? Youse got a boy." Mush shoved her playfully on the shoulder.

"True," she considered. "Skittery's much nicer den you." Mush glowered at her. "So Artemis, you know anything 'bout New Yoak?"

I shrugged. "Lived here all my life," I said simply. "Been around. Just not recently."

Lark nodded at me. "Okay. Well den. I got me woik cut out for me. Let's go." She grinned at me and headed off.

I looked back at Mush, who still stood behind me. "She joking?" I pointed after Lark.

"Lark? Yeah. She's nice. Don't worry, she won't hurt ya," Mush kidded.

"Oh believe me, I'm not worried about that," I muttered under my breath as headed to catch up with Lark.

Four hours, fifty cents, and an empty tummy later, I was done. I'd managed to sell all my

papes, and earn some extra money, too. Now I followed Lark as she headed for Tibby's, the restaurant where apparently all the Manhattaners ate lunch. As we walked in, I looked around at the faces already there. I could recognize a few, but I forgot most of the names. Lark waved to the boy who had been in front of me in line, the one with the pink shirt. Skittery or something. Tibby's looked nice enough. Neat tables, chairs, could hold almost all the newsies there. Most importantly, it looked like they had good food.

Lark lead me over to a table that was already almost full. She slipped into the seat next to

Skittery and gestured for me to sit across from her. We ordered lunch before I was besieged with questions from all sides.

"What's your name?"

"How long you been heah?"

"Why's your hair so short?"

"How youse likin' Manhattan?"

"Enough!" another girl, a tall blonde, shouted at the newsies. "Let her eat first. Jesus, but

yoah a buncha idiots." Hooking the seat next to mine with her foot, she sat with an ungraceful plop.

"Da name's Flyer," she said, sitting on the chair backwards, facing me. "An' yoah told me about ya." She grinned.

I blinked. Race? Oh right, the one with the cigar.

"Where is he?" I asked. "Doesn't he come here like the rest of you?"

Flyer laughed. "Race? Naw, he's down at de tracks. Bettin' on the horses. Ya won't see him until later. Now you," she changed the subject and pointed at me. "Where are youse sleepin'? We got an extra bunk in da lodgin' house, if ya want."

I nearly choked on my food. Me, stay in the same lodging house as everybody else? "N-no thanks," I finally managed to choke out. "I'm fine." No need to tell Flyer I was sleeping on boxes in the alley right next door.

Flyer quirked an eyebrow at me. "Youse sure? You wouldn't be separate from da boys, but..." she shrugged. "Beats da streets."

"Let it alone Flyer," Lark interrupted. "She wants to come in, she can come in. Let it alone till den. You done?" I nodded. "Then let's go. I gotta show ya 'bout sellin' papes in the afternoons."

As we stood up to leave, Flyer tapped my arm. "You wanna leave your pack at least? It can't be dat great, carryin' it 'round." Seeing my alarm, she added quickly, "Just leave it on my bunk. No one'll touch it." She grinned again, but not so friendly-like. I wondered what she had down to keep everyone away from her stuff. I had the feeling it hadn't just been saying "Stay away from my stuff."

"Sure."

"Alright. Have Lark show ya where it is." She stood up, almost a full head taller then me, and walked out the door. I turned to find Lark, who now stood by the door. She twitched her head towards it.

"Come on, den. Let's move."

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**Favorite parts? Least favorite parts?**

**Spelling errors? ^_^**


	3. Brooklyn's Coming?

**Ya~y, chapter threeeee.................._**

**I would put a witty disclaimer about only owning Artemis, Blade, Colt, and Flyer, but.......I don't feel like being witty. :P**

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Ch. 3 - Brooklyn's coming?

A week later I rushed back to the lodging house. Flyer had yelled at me that morning that I needed to take my knives out of my bag, or at least sheath them better. Whatever.

As I pounded up the stairs (no point in sneaking) past Kloppmann, I realized there were voices coming from the bunk room. I slowed down, straining to hear. From the sounds of it, there were at least two, maybe three, boys. And they were talking. About something. That I didn't know. Bleh.

"...is really commin' over?" That was Jack. Now who else?

"Yeah. Said he wanted ta see 'da Jacky-boy' an' his crew." Another boy's voice, quiet and light, and not someone from Manhattan.

I stepped onto the creaky floor board in front of the door. Time to poke around. I poked my head in and saw Jack standing by his bunk. A boy sat on the bunk across from him. Blonde and lithe, he made me think of a ferret. Another boy, as tall as Jack, was standing next to the blonde one. He had black hair and dark eyes. Well muscled, I supposed, but more like the running type.

"Hey Artemis," Jack greeted me easily.

"Hiya Cowboy," I grinned. "This some secret meeting I'm interrupting?" My eyes flicked to the black haired boy, who was looking me up and down. "What?"

He started. "Oh, hey. Sorry. Habits." I raised an eyebrow at him. His voice was pleasant, and obviously the one I had heard talking to Jack just now.

"Stop scaring dem with your eyes, Artemis, jeez," Jack laughed. "Dat one's Colt. He's one of Brooklyn's runners, in addition ta bein' a newsie. His friend here is Blade. You should show him your knives sometime."

I nodded at him. "So...what's Brooklyn doing over here?"

"Spot Conlon," Blade began, "wanted ta know hows this guy here's doin'." His voice was a little deeper than Colt's.

Colt nodded. "So Jack, you up to seein' yoah pal at Medda's tomorrow?" He lounged against the bedpost, perfectly at ease. Grrr. I could never do that. Stupid things hurt!

Jack grinned. "Sure. I'd love ta see Spot. So Brooklyn's commin' to da party, huh?" He laughed like it was a joke. I decided to take the opportunity to grab my knives. As I was strapping them on under my sleeves and under my pant legs, I listened to the conversation.

"So what time's the party?" that was Colt.

"'Bout six or so, I guess. Medda ain't too particular 'bout us showin' up on time." Jack.

Blade snorted. "Great. Dat means I get ta go find Sparrow again." Sparrow? Wasn't that Lark's sister or cousin or something?

"Aw shush, you know youse don't mind." Colt. I turned around in time to see a faint blush on Blade's face. He shoved Colt away from the bunk, which made him stumble into me as I passed by.

I automatically threw up my arms to try and stop the catastrophe that was pretty obviously going to happen. Too bad it didn't work.

Colt crashed into me, which made me fall back against a bunk, and then Colt fell on top of me. Which sent us crashing to the floor.

"Ow, dammit, why is everyone so big?!" I moaned. I opened my eyes to see Colt with an expression of alarm in his eyes. He was right over top of me. Joy.

"Oh shit," he swore and quickly stood up. He offered me a hand up. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean ta do that. Honest."

I smirked up at him. I only came up to his shoulder. "It's cool. Just don't do it again, or I'll knife you," I said wickedly. I wouldn't actually knife him. He was too nice, and besides, I saved waving knives in people's faces for the Bulls. Yes, the Bulls.

His eyebrows went up. "Really?" He turned his head to look at Blade, who had been sitting there watching. The nerve! "Hey Blade, maybe you should fight Artemis-it is Artemis, right?" I nodded. "Maybe you should fight Artemis one time. For fun."

"You think," Blade drawled, "that I'm gonna fight a _Manhattane_r, for fun?"

I let them quibble. "So...there's a party tomorrow?" I asked Jack.

He nodded. "Yeah. Medda's holdin' another party for us newsies." He grinned. I had met Medda once already, and she was nice enough. At least I would have something to do tomorrow, and maybe get some free food. Food, nyum. I like food. Shush.

"So who's Spot?"

"Da self proclaimed King of Brooklyn, and leader of us Brooklynites," said Colt. "Try not to get on his bad side. He's nasty when he's angry." Colt grinned, as if he remembered something hilarious about this Spot.

I raised my eyebrows. "Joy."

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The next night after we sold our papes we all trooped to Medda's. It was a nice place, I have to admit. Medda had drinks and some snacks for the newsies. Since we're so close, we were the first ones to arrive. I wandered around for a bit until I bumped into Race and Crutchy. Race, apparently, wanted to play poker, but no one was willing.

"Ah, c'mon guys. Loosen up a bit, will ya?" Race asked around his cigar.

"Why do you smoke those things Race? Ew," I wrinkled my nose at him. He only grinned at me.

"Hey Crutchy, what's going on with you?" I turned to him.

"Hey, Artemis. Dere's some really great sellin' spots I got." Crutchy grinned. He was so worried about looking fake.

"Heads up!" Kid Blink yelled. I turned to see his blonde head bobbing through the crowd, his telltale eyepatch in place. I had found out the other day that it was real. "Brooklyn's here!" A mob of newsies came in, lead by a dark haired boy with a gold-topped cane. A cane. Wow...

The dark haired boy surveyed the crowd of Manhattaners and mingling Brooklynites briefly, his eyes flicking everywhere. For a moment I thought he had spotted me, but then he was changing course and heading in the other direction.

"Hey Spot!" Jack yelled, waving the Brooklyn leader over. I saw the two spit shake. I twitched. Germs!!!!!! The two of them walked over to a table. A bunch of other newsies crowed around them. I shrugged. I could always introduce myself later. If I felt like it.

"What's up, Artemis, youse eyein' Spot?" Racetrack joked.

I snorted. "Nope. Why, is he worth it?"

Race laughed. "Most of da goils in Brooklyn think he is. He's had so many girlfriends, I don't even remembah dem. He's nevah serious though." Huh. Okay then, player leader. Maybe it was a good thing that I hadn't started off in Brooklyn. Although Spot was kinda cute. From _the_ _other side of the room._

I wandered around a little bit. I bumped into Red, another girl newsie from Manhattan. She had her long red hair tied back and was talking to Kid Blink. She nodded at me briefly.

Wandering over to where Medda was manning the bar herself, I plopped up onto a stool with a grin. "Hey, Medda. Ya got anything good to drink?"

"Hello, Artemis," Medda grinned at me. When I had first met her, she had told me that "birds of a feather, or at least hair color, have to stick together." I think she said that because of the random red streaks in my hair. Either way, I liked her fine, and she didn't seem to mind me. "What would you like, dear? I've got root beer, water...no alcohol. Although I wouldn't put it past some of the Harlem or Bowery newsies to sneak some in." She pursed her lips and watched the continuing trickle of newsies into the hall.

"I'll just have some root beer, thanks Medda." Personally, I saw no point to drinking.

"Here you go, dear," Medda offered me a glass full. With another smile and a nod, I was off. If there was mischief about, it would most likely find me eventually. No point in looking for it right now. Might as well wander.

Most of the Brooklynites had a different feel to them than the Manhattaners. Where Manhattan was open and friendly, Brooklynites had more of a "tough" feel to them. I saw some girls were there. More than Manhattan, at least. I wondered were Jack was.

As I wandered a tall Brooklynite boy bumped into me, making me spill my root beer on the floor. While I was glad that it wasn't on me, it still pissed me off. I turned around to yell at him.

"Hey!" I said. "What the hell was that for?"

The boy was taller than my by more than a head, with dirty blond hair and mean brown eyes. He smirked at me. "Well, look at what we have heah. Another Manhattan wuss? Dey lettin' goils join in, now?" He tried to grab my face.

I flinched back from him and grabbed his wrist. Finding the nerve, I pinched. Hard. He swore, trying to dislodge me. But the harder he pulled away the deeper I could dig my nails. I glared up at him. I opened my mouth to give him an earful of what I thought about him and his ability to work, when I felt someone come up behind me.

"Well, what have we heah?" an unfamiliar voice drawled behind me. I turned around -- and was met with a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes.

Yup. Mischief had _definitely _found me.

Bugger.

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**Special thanks to...............**

**Eavis: Sorry about that, but it's not meant as a swear word or anything of the sort. Also, these are newsies. They're not exactly...polite. So, I will try and refrain from using language that offends people, but I write the way the characters are. It's an issue I have: I will literally get behind a characters eyes. :P But otherwise, please enjoy! ^_^**


	4. Let's Make A Bet

**I love those extremely productive weekends when you have a major test on Monday, don't you? :D**

**Yuptup, chapter four....you guys will finally get to see a bit of Spot! Yay! :D Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. In the next chapter you get to find you why this story has its name......**

**Artemis, Jackal, Red, Flyer, Lark = mine. Anyone you recognize from the movie = not mine. :D**

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Ch. 4 - Let's make a bet

Blue-grey eyes met my own green ones. Spot Conlon, Brooklyn leader, was standing behind me. And I was being not so nice to one of his newsies. Ooooooh bugger.

He smirked at me as I stared at him, then turned to the boy who's wrist I still held. "You might want to let go now, doll," he said quietly. I frowned at the nickname, but let go. He wasn't very tall, only about a head taller than me, but there was something to the way he held himself.

"So Jackal," Spot said amiably. "Youse pickin' on those smaller than ya again?"

Jackal glared down at Spot, rubbing the spot where I had grabbed him. "Wadaya want, Spot?"

The Brooklyn leader leaned in real close to the other newsie as I backed up a step. In a deadly quiet voice Spot asked, "I want ta know if you forgot what I taught ya da other day already, Jackal. An' I wanna know if I need ta teach ya again." The taller boy blanched visibly.

"Nah, I'm good, Spot," Jackal muttered. Spot jerked his chin as a signal for the other boy to leave. His cold eyes stayed on Jackal's back until he disappeared. Then he whipped his head back around an surveyed me again. His eyes were kind of...pretty. Blue-grey with flecks of sharper blue, kind of how his hair was brown with flecks of blonde. His nose was rather pert, and his mouth.....was smirking at me. Okay, Artemis is now pissed.

"What?" I glared up at him.

"You've got some weird eyes on ya," he smirked.

"Yeah?" I cocked my head up at him. "I could say the same about you." He only smirked wider. Oooh, he annoyed me. Cocky.

"Hey Spot, what was dat all about?" Jack came over. It was entertaining to note that Spot just cleared Jack's shoulder.

"Seems like one o' your newsies heah was fightin' with one o' mine," Spot smirked at me.

"_Excuse me?!" _I gasped. Ugh, I hate my temper. Makes me say stupid things. C'mon, Artemis! Pull yourself together! "_He _picked on _me_. _You _butted in on _my _fight!" That got a laugh from both of them. I glowered at them. I kind of wished that they would just let me get into a fight already.

"Hey thanks Spot, for helpin' out Artemis here. You mind if I talk ta her for a bit?" Jack asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

Spot nodded. "See ya later, Jacky-boy." Spot nodded at Jack and tipped his hat at me. I watched as he walked off, his gold-topped cane holstered on his suspenders. Behind me, Jack chuckled.

"So, did he give ya an earful den?" Jack chortled. I raised my eyebrow at him. "Yeah, Spot doesn't talk dat much. But he's alright. So what did ya do?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. "That stupid lug Jackal bumped into me. He made me spill my root beer. So I made him hurt a little." I shrugged again. Then I frowned. "Wait, did I just break some special newsie treaty or something?"

"Nah, don't worry about it," Jack said. "So listen, how do you feel about makin' a bet?"

I stared at him suspiciously. "With who?"

"Me, o' course."

"About what?"

"Spot."

"About Spot and...what?" I smelled a rat. Cowboy was clearly hiding something. Time to make him squirm a bit.

"About Spot and a girl goin' together."

"And which girl would that be?"

"You."

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, hey, keep it down, will ya?" Jack pulled me over behind a pillar. "Ya see, the way

Sparrow tells it, Spot's gettin' bored with his latest 'conquest.'" I noticed the air quotations Jack put around the last word.

"So then what do ya need me for, Cowboy?" I asked. "Why not just let him find another? Or better yet, get someone already over in Brooklyn to take care of it."

"Yeah, well, dat's the problem, see. Cuz no Brooklynite would go that far, and most of the goils in Brooklyn already know Spot in some way or another."

I put my face in my palms before looking up at Jack again. "Jack, do you know who Artemis is? Where my name comes from?"

"Some goddess or somethin' right?" It looked like Medda had told him some stories at some point or another.

"She's the goddess of _unmarried _girls and women." I stared at him hard, willing him to understand this.

"Alright, so?" Apparently my telepathy wasn't so strong.

"So it's in my name, Cowboy!" I was ready to smack him upside the head. "Every single guy that I've ever been with, they all left! I'm not meant to be with anyone, alright? Any time I try and be serious about a guy, it always ends badly!"

"Woah, woah, hey. Calm down, Artemis," Jack was holding my shoulders again as I breathed in and out slowly. "I'm not askin' ya ta be serious about Spot, but he did notice I had a new newsie earlier when he came in. So I thought maybe you'd be able ta handle dealin' with da infamous 'King of Brooklyn' and his crew."

"That's not all there is to it, is there?" I still smelled a rat. They have a very distinct odor, one which my dainty little nose does not care for.

"Well," Jack scratched his head, stalling. "Y'see, Manhattan already has a bunch of goils, an' some of da guys around heah...well, dey ain't too keen on ya, Artemis."

Ah. "So...you're trying to kick me out nicely." I stated it as fact, rather than as a question. Jack shrugged and looked at the ground. Since he seemed so sorry about it, I decided to make it easy for him.

I closed my eyes before asking, "How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much are you willing to bet that I can make Spot serious for once? Oh, and how long?" I opened my eyes to see his smile.

"Five bucks for a month."

I smirked up at Cowboy. "You're on. But I'm betting that I can't make him serious about me."

"Deal." We spit shook on it.

As I discretely wiped my hand on my pants, I asked, "So what do we tell Spot?"

* * *

**So.......favorite parts? Least favorite parts?**

**Thanks to elleestJenn, huggle-bibin, cailin baire conlon, and Mids-all-the-way for adding this story to your alerts! :D It makes me feel all warm and fuzzily on the inside! XD 3 3 3 3 3**

**Eavis: Here you go! It's another chapter! I'm working on the next one! Thank you for reviewing. Just a warning, you may not like some of the Brooklynites..._**

**cailin baire conlon: Thanks! I'm trying to write as much as possible........NaNoWriMo is coming up, though, so I might get slowed down on this.....**

**And to all of you out there you read this and think happy thoughts, thank you! I would like to know your happy thoughts if possible! :D -saya-**


	5. Oh joy, Brooklyn

**Hello to all my lovely readers. I apologize for the sudden disappearance. School work and whatnot got all caught up. But! Now that break is finally here, I will try and put up at least two more chapters! This chapter is also about twice as long as the other ones. I hope you like it! 3  
**

**So, here you go! Artemis is now in Brooklyn! Enjoy!**

**insert disclaimer here. Newies is not mine. Only my OC's. So if you recognize them from the movie = not mine. If you don't recognize them from the movie = mine. Steal and they will bite you.  
**

* * *

Ch 5 – Oh joy, Brooklyn

The next morning, I woke to the sounds of feet scurrying about on a hard wood floor, and calls of "Wake up!" ringing through the air. I groaned, careful not to move to far to one side or the other. I swear, newsies have no appreciation for moving quietly, especially in the morning. Well, except for maybe Spot, but I got the feeling that was just because of all the fights he's been in. I groaned again, remembering the scene between me, Cowboy, Spot, and a various random other newsies.

_flashback_

Jack walked up to Spot, as calm and relaxed as if he was just asking Spot if he wanted another drink. Too bad Spot didn't have a drink in his hand for one, and for two, I felt like I was about to have kittens.

_Please, Artemis, if you really do exist, don't shoot me with your arrows or turn me into something nasty for what I am about to try and do. I really don't think Spot – or Jack – would keep a half-bear half-newsie as a newsie,_ I thought to myself.

As Spot turned around to face Jack, his eyes briefly flicked to me. I felt my temper flare slightly, and glared back at him. I swear he smirked. Well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about _my_ feelings at the end of this shindig.

I heard Cowboy explaining to Spot about my... "situation" here in Manhattan. I swear, only Jack could take this situation and make it sound like I should just move to the toughest and most notorious borough in New York, instead of just soaking the offended newsies in question. But maybe that was just my fighting side talking.

Spot gazed steadily at Jack as he continued with his explanation. At the end, Spot just continued to stared levelly at Jack as he said, "So your telling dat you want me ta take dis here Artemis back ta Brooklyn, because some of yoah newsies are...uncomfortable." He made the question sound more like a statement. I hoped Jack didn't mind losing the bet, because I could feel it going up in cold flames already. Not that I'm saying Spot scared me or anything, but it just seeming like it would be hard to win over someone who seemed so....cold.

"Yeah, pretty much. Do ya think you can do it?" Jack stood there, perfectly at ease. Meanwhile, I was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Spot smirked up at Cowboy. "Sure, a couple of my newsies just left. Dey didn't exactly _agree_ with da rules I have."

"Yeah, I'm sure they just _left_," I muttered to myself. Spot and Jack both turned to stare at me. Oops, I guess that _hadn't _been under my breath after all. "What?"

Spot just smirked at me. I glared into his blue eyes as Jack laughed and said, "I guess I forgot ta tell ya, Spot, but Artemis might not agree with everythin' either. An' she can be kinda vocal about it."

Spot grinned, "If she don't, den I'll just deal with her the same as the others. Brooklyn requires discipline sometimes, Cowboy, an' I ain't da King of Brooklyn foah bein' soft." Spot shrugged at the end.

"Do you want to fight or something?" I quipped. "Because I will happily oblige. I'm not so perky as I might be otherwise. You know, the whole problems with some of the Manhattan idiots and that one Brooklynite oaf." There. Maybe now I could start to see how long Spot's fuse was. Which, granted, was probably not the smartest idea ever, but who ever said I was smart?

Spot just snickered at me, and Cowboy raised his eyebrows. "Well, yoah just itchin' for a fight, aren't ya?" Spot grinned lazily. He jerked his head at one of the Brooklynites standing nearby. "Anyone want to fight?"

"I'll do it." Spot nodded at the newsie that stepped forward. It was a girl a little bit taller than me, with blonde hair and glaring brown eyes. "She's been pissin' me off since you started talkin'. If she's gonna be in Brooklyn, she better fix her attitude. _Fast._" She glared at me some more while I just gave her my best lazy stare. Oh, I'd show _her_ fast.

"Is that a threat?" I drawled.

"Damn straight it is!"

"And you're going to fight me with…what? Your mouth?" Implying that your opponent is stupid and/or weak is always a good idea, right? (The answer is: _no._ No it is not.)

"We'll see how well you talk when I'm done with you," she snarled.

I shrugged. "Okay, Miss Princess. Where do ya want to fight?" If my calculations were correct, my taunts should have a very nice effect of making her lose her head. The less work I have to do in a fight, the better.

"I'll take you down right here!" she yelled as she charged me. A-yup. That did the trick.

Taking a step back, I balanced onto the balls of my feet and drew one of my knives into my left hand. If I was going to show some flash, I'd rather not do any damage with it. I let her get almost in reaching distance of me, and then pivoted on my foot to the side, allowing her to fly past me. The crowd of Manhattan newsies on the receiving end of her charge was none too please, particularly Race.

"Hey! Just foah that, yoah odds just went down! Ten ta one, Artemis wins! Who's bettin'?" Race yelled. I saw a bunch of Manhattaners and Brooklynites gather around him to bet just before Princess slammed into me from the front.

"Oof!" I gasped as the wind was knocked from my lungs. That might leave a bruise in the morning. The fall that followed definitely would. I made sure to hold my knife in the air away from my face so as not to cut her.

She sat up, presumably to punch me in the face while I was pinned under her. I flipped my knife to my right hand. As her hand came down, I used my left arm to get inside her arm and shove it away, grabbing it to pull myself up into her face. The knife in my right flashed in the air once before I brought it to rest lightly as the base of her throat. If she moved, I could dig the edge in a bit and draw some blood to show that I was serious. Princess froze, as did everyone around us, all eyes on my blade.

"Alright Artemis, I think you made yoah point dere," Jack said. I flicked my eyes up to him. He looked relaxed enough, but he was most definitely serious about the fight being over. I shrugged at him. Spot, standing at Jack's side, was looking at the Brooklynite girl and eyeing my blade. Guess nothing fazes _him_.

I smirked at her and motioned for her to stand up. As she did, I rose with her, the knife never leaving its spot. I backed her up until she stood next to Spot again before flipping it in the air and catching it in my left hand.

"Satisfied now, Spot?" I quipped. Spot just smirked at me. The Brooklynite girl just snorted in disgust and rubbed her throat. I smiled at her politely. "Artemis, at your service for all things pick pocketing, general theft, and obnoxiousness." I held my hand out to her for a shake. She glared at me and disappeared into the crowd.

"Alright, Jacky-boy, youse got yoahself a deal. She can come over ta Brooklyn," Spot said. I looked at him, but he was staring at Jack. I shrugged. Brooklyn wouldn't be leaving for a while. Might as well go get another drink from Medda.

"Honestly, Artemis, can't you go one night here without disturbing everyone?" Medda scolded me, but I saw her smile, so I knew she wasn't really that mad. The Brooklyn girl had probably given her trouble at some point or another.

"Of course I can, Medda! I didn't fight anyone the first time I was here!" I beamed at her. "May I have some water, please?" Medda just smiled, shook her head, and handed me a glass.

"Do me a favor an' pour me a root beer, would'ja Medda?" a boy asked right next to my ear. I twitched and turned. Once again, Spot had sneaked up behind me. How does he _do_ that? As Spot thanked Medda and took his drink, he sat on the stool next to me. It probably would have been best to just walk away at that point, but Spot didn't seem like the type to let something just go.

"Did you want something with me, Spot?"

Spot smirked and took another sip of his drink, still not looking at me. I shrugged and palmed another blade. Might as well be entertained while I waited. I flipped it up into the air, caught it, and flipped it again.

"So, you broke all the boys' hearts over heah, didja?"

_Thunk._ The knife landed blade down into the wood of the bar. Goddamn, interfering, nosy, smirking…_playboy newsie!!!!_

"_No!_ What the hell did Jack tell you?!" I gasped, whirling to face Spot.

"You should really pay more attention, doll. Relax. Kelly said you need a place ta stay. What I wanna know is _why not here_?" Spot stared straight into my eyes. If some people think I'm half as unnerving as he is, I can see why it's uncomfortable. At least my eyes are green. His are clear blue, and it's like staring into ice. "Yoah knife's still stuck." Spot's eyes flicked over to my knife, and mine followed. Blushing slightly, I pulled it out and tapped it flat side down against my palm. What to say, what to say…

"I dunno," I shrugged, not looking at him. "Manhattan just isn't working so well. 'Sides, I know a few people over in Brooklyn. I would have ended up there sooner or later." I fidgeted with the brim of my cabby cab.

Someone's hand briefly covered mine, and then the hat was off of my head. What little bit of my hair I had managed to tuck up into my hat fell down to brush the tops of my shoulders. My head jerked up to see Spot playing with my hat and looking at my hair. "So it really is dat short. Ya know, you could almost pass as a boy. Don't try it though. If you bring in bad business, it'll only end up bad foah you," Spot commented.

I seethed. I think I could have actually breathed fire at that point. Didn't this stupid newsie leader have anything better to do than torment me?! I mean, really. First, he probably doesn't even like me, then I beat up another Brooklynite, and now he steals my hat?! And Jack wants me to make him fall for me. Yeah. Riiiight. About that.

Seeing my anger on my face, Spot smiled at me, tipped his hat, and tossed mine back to me. "Brooklyn's leaving in ten minutes. Be ready at the front." With that, he disappeared into the crowd, twirling his cane. It was time to find Jack.

Jack was standing in the middle of a huddle of newsies including Race, Kid Blink, Mush, and Skittery. Lark was standing at Skittery's side.

"Hey, Jack," I piped at his shoulder. "Spot said Brooklyn's leaving soon. I'm gonna go grab my stuff at the House."

"Artemis, can I talk to ya foah a minute?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, sure." Jack dragged me away from the group.

"You remember da bet, right? You have to make Spot fall for ya."

"Yes, Jack, I remember," I sighed. "All I need now is a spot of luck." Jack smiled. "Oh, good grief! That was not an intended joke!"

/flashback

So, now I had one month, one annoying newsie leader to make fall for me – yeah, right – and one headache from the noise. At least I was on the bottom, so I didn't have far to fall. Plus, my bag was right below me. Nice thing about Brooklyn, they have a bigger lodging house, which means a room for the girls.

"Hey! New girl!" A lightly freckled face popped into my view. I froze against my bed. Well, hello to you to. Now, if you don't mind, _get out of my bubble!_ "Da distribution center opens in ten minutes. If you want food, ya have ta get up and move!" Her brown hair hung down and tickled my nose. I sneezed.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. Obviously someone was going to have to notify the newsies that me and food-giving nuns don't go to well. They have eyes like hawks. Meaning I can't steal lunch. My feet hit the floor as I rolled out of bed. Dressing was a fast matter, and then I was on my way. With a knife on each arm, my necklaces, and enough change to buy me some papes and lunch, I was set to explore Brooklyn. Hopefully.

At the bottom of the stairs, the same girl was waiting for me. She jerked her head for me to follow her.

"So, you've been a newsie foah what, a week?" she asked. We fell into step easily with each other, being about the same height.

"Give or take a few days, yeah," I shrugged. I was more concerned with where I was going, not where I'd been right now. Brooklyn was a tougher place. The lodging house was just two blocks from the piers, and I could smell the river on the faint breeze. The streets here were wider than in Manhattan, and I had no clue where I was going. At my side, the girl kept walking towards for a wagon on the side of the next block.

"You wanna follow me today, then? Learn Brooklyn a bit? I'm Sparrow, by the way," She rubbed her freckled nose, like she was embarrassed about being nice.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought Brooklyn was meeean," I teased. "Aren't you Lark's sister or something?"

"Yeah, Lark's my sister over in Manhattan. An' we're not all really..._mean_ exactly. Well, some of 'em are. You'll want to stay clear of Hornet and Badger when they're mad. Oh, an' Spot gives us a bit of a rep foah bein' tough, but dis is Brooklyn," Sparrow shrugged. "Didja hear about the fight Spot got into da other day? Coupla Bulls. Spot won."

I had to raise my eyebrows at that. The Bulls, really? Even I wouldn't try that. "Just how good of a fighter _is_ Spot, anyway? I mean, taking on the Bulls? That's crazy!"

"I don't loose, an' besides, da Bulls had it comin'. Dey were roughin' up one of my newsies," Spot's voice popped up behind me. I whirled to face him.

"It's rude to eavesdrop," I shot over my shoulder. We were at the waggon now, so I took my cross over my head to pretend to pray. Always a good idea to butter up the food people first. Then sometimes you get a little more.

"It's rude to talk 'bout others behind their backs," Spot said calmly.

"Well, it's also rude to gloat." Spot just smirked and I heard Sparrow chuckle from my other side. "What?" I asked her. "No one never loses. Everyone does at some point or other. I lose all the time!"

"That's not what I heard," Sparrow snickered. "Besides, we all saw you take down Sparks last night over in Manhattan." I groaned. Was everyone going to judge me based on that bit of flash? Really.

"I didn't do nothin'," I muttered, bitting into my apple. "I just didn't like the shape of her nose." Sparrow laughed again. "Besides, we weren't talking about me, we were talking about Spot. How does he never lose?"

"Because I'm that great, sweetheart," Spot called back over his shoulder from a little ways in front of us.

I glared at his back.

"It's rude to gloat!" I yelled. A couple of newsies around us chuckled or snickered. Smiling to myself, I added as Spot entered the distribution center:

"And stop it with the nicknames! They suck!"

*~*later*~*

After running around Brooklyn for a few hours, you would think I would at least remember some of the places I had gone, right? WRONG. Well, not completely wrong. I could remember a small pastry shop by the name of "Abby's" that had some cheap turnovers. A new potential breakfast spot down, yum! Now, what did Sparrow say about lunch? Something about a place called "Ray's" or something.

After wandering down a few more streets, I _finally_ recognized where I was. I hate my sense of direction. Passing by Abby's I took a right and walked down until I saw the restaurant. I wondered if the person who ran it was related to the person who ran Tibby's. Although honestly, the more pressing thought on my mind was "food!"

A word to the wise (or at least the half starved): half running while on an empty stomach, after selling papers for at least three hours. It's a bad idea especially on cobble stones.

Needless to say, I tripped just feet from the door. My hand flew up automatically to shield myself from the hard ground that was hurtling towards me. I swear I was going to hit the ground when I felt someone's arm snake around my waist, saving me.

"Well, that was close. Can't have our new little spitfire fallin' down, now can we?" a guy's voice chuckled in my ear. It definitely wasn't Spot's, that's for sure. I turned my head to see a pair of dancing brown eyes laughing at me. "Here ya go. What were ya runnin' foah, anyway?" To my shame, all I could do was gape at this blond newsie as he set me on my feet and brushed off my shoulders. Well, he was certainly good looking enough. Tall, with light blond hair, a straight nose and an easy smile. Although there was a small scar across his nose, like maybe someone decided to break it. When I didn't answer, he just grinned at me and offered his hand. "Pirate, at yoah service." That brought me to attention.

"Artemis, possibly at yours." At least he didn't insist on spitting first.

"Now, I'm going to guess dat you need some food before you can talk. So, after you," Pirate said, holding the door open. I sniffed.

"Chivalry is dead, you know," I stated, crossing my arms. Although it was rather funny, seeing this about six foot tall newsie leaning against the open door.

"Okay, den," Pirate shrugged. "But you really look like you could use some food in your scrawny lil self." He gave me a second to make up my mind.

I sighed comically. "Ah, very well then. Chivalry lives again for a second. And I object to being called 'scrawny.' I prefer the word 'lithe.'" As I entered, I looked around for a place to sit. The place was absolutely swarming with newsies. I saw Sparrow wave from a booth by the back. Not bothering to see if Pirate followed, I walked over to where Sparrow, Blade, and Colt had pulled another table up.

"I see you've met Pirate den, Artemis?" Colt drawled. He flashed a grin at the newsie behind me. Guess he followed.

"Met, got saved from having my cute little face mushed by the ground, whatever," shrugged. I slid in across from Sparrow. Pirate sat next to me.

"You'll want to look out foah dis one," Sparrow whispered dramatically across the table. "He's a horrible flirt. Second maybe to Spot." I giggled.

"I'm named after the goddess of unmarried girls. I think I'm good," I laughed. Sparrow just blinked at me. So much for enough people knowing everything. Next to me, Pirate laughed.

"So if you end up with someone, you'll get cursed, is dat it?" Pirate flashed a roguish grin.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Something like that." I turned to my food as it arrived. Well, well, well. Flirty newsies in Brooklyn? Who would have thought.

Another girl came and sat down at the end across from Colt. She was a bit tall, with long dark brown hair and grey eyes. I think her name was Cat...and she may be the girl on the bunk above mine. Maybe. I really needed to start paying a bit more attention to these people.

As everyone else talked about almost every subject – that cute girl they saw the other day, Abby's bakery, selling spots – I started to think about where I had used to live before when I was in Brooklyn. It definitely wasn't that close to the docks, but close enough that I remember hearing the boats, or maybe I just wandered down here sometimes. Whatever. I didn't need to find it. With any luck, no one was there anymore.

"Hey, Artemis, you okay?" Pirate nudged me in the arm.

"What?" I blinked at him. Sparrow and Blade were staring at me. Sparrow looked slightly nervous.

"Food not good or somethin'? You looked like you were goin' ta murder yoah plate," Pirate said casually. I blinked. Oh, shoot. I guess I hadn't been as calm about it all as I had thought.

"Oh. Oh, no. Just thinking about an annoying customer I had this morning. Do any of you know of a restaurant called 'Simple Tastes'?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Simple...? Ah, yeah. It's over on Hunts lane. 'Bout ten blocks away from here," Blade said. "If you leave here you go left, then take a right an' go straight. It'll be on yoah left."

"You know that place?" Sparrow asked.

"In a manner of speaking," I shrugged. "I know someone in the kitchens, so sometimes I can get some free food." I waggled my fingers at her. Blade snorted.

"What, ya can't lift some food like da rest of us?" he criticized. Sparrow nudged him with her elbow. To my amusement, I saw him blush faintly.

"Sure I can. But why bother to do the work when you can have better stuff for free?" I countered.

"But you'll still have to walk over there," Pirate commented. I glared at him.

"Who's side are you on?" I demanded, mock-angry. Drawing myself up to my full height (which, beside Pirate, isn't very high) I tried to glare down at him. "You're a pirate, aren't you? Fight the guy, not the girl!"

They all laughed. I smiled, trying hard to remain "angry" at him. "Oh, sure, sure," Pirate chortled. "Then I'll just take you hostage, shall I?" He flashed another rogue-ish grin before leaning over and trying to grab me.

"Pirate! Don't you dare!" I yelled (read: near about screamed) , trying to block him with my arms. "I don't like people grabbing me! Stop it!" My protests were in vain, as Pirate just grabbed my hands in one of his before grabbing me around my shoulders. He pulled me in next to his side, his "hostage." If I hadn't been to freaked about him grabbing me, I probably wouldn't have minded.

"Ha! Gotcha, Artmeis!" Pirate crowed with triumph. "Now, my fair lady, how about beggin' foah me ta release y-"

"I think we all heard her say she had enough, Pirate," Spot's voice floated somewhere above my head where I couldn't see. Pirate immediately tensed and then relaxed his arm.

"Hiya, Spot," he said calmly. "We're just messin' around. No harm done."

"So den how about you let her go." It was a statement, a command, and a request, all in one. I had to hand it to Spot, he really knew how to deal with Brooklyn.

Immediately Pirate's arm was gone, and I moved back to my seat. I looked up at Spot. He met my gaze evenly before looking back at Pirate.

"The afternoon papes will be out soon. Don't want to miss your chances, do ya?" Spot asked.

"Yeah, I'll be out dere in a minute," Pirate muttered. Seeing Spot still standing there, Pirate glared at him. "See ya, Spot." Spot just nodded cooly.

"Colt, I got another errand foah ya. Come find me later," Spot said before leaving.

"Okay, Spot," Colt muttered. As the door closed behind Spot, everyone at the table turned to laugh at Pirate.

"Seriously, Pi?" Cat laughed from his other side. "You? Against Spot? Didn't this happen last summer? An' you lost." She continued to snicker at him.

"Don't call me 'Pi' Cat," Pirate growled at her. "An' I know dat I lost."

Sparrow had buried her face in her hands. I couldn't tell from the shaking if she was laughing or crying, but I would bet it was laughing. Blade leaned over to check on her. He poked her on the shoulder and she looked up at Pirate.

"You. Are. Such. A. Moron," she enunciated each word carefully before bursting out into laughter again.

"All you goils laughin' at me is gonna make me cry," Pirate said, placing a hand over his heart.

"Yeah, you'll cry. When Spot beats you again," Blade muttered. He leaned back in his seat and smirked at Pirate. Pirate threw his napkin at him.

"Hey!" was Blade's protest. Sparrow just shushed him as he rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, though," Cat said. "Spot was right about the afternoon papes. They'll be out soon. I'm off." She tipped her hat at us as she stood up. I could see why she was nicknamed cat. With her angled cheekbones and graceful nature, she definitely had that same feline air. I sighed wistfully.

"What now, Artemis?" Pirate asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'll never be that pretty," I mourned. I wasn't really serious, though. Messing with them is just too much fun.

"Yoah pretty. Why else would I take you hostage?" Pirate smirked. I brought out a knife.

"Don't you try that again, Pirate," I warned. "Spot may not be here, but I can beat you just the same." I waved the knife about, acting threatening.

"Oh, well," Pirate sighed. "I'll just have ta retreat for today. Withdraw all the canons!" With that he stood up. "I'll just be gone, saddened and distraught, mourning..." I giggled at the silliness.

"Really, Artemis, why to you lead him on?" Sparrow asked. Colt and Blade had already left, so we walked together back to the distribution center.

"I dunno. No harm done, right?" I shrugged. "It's not like either of us is serious. Good grief, we only met just an hour ago?" Sparrow giggled.

"He'll get a big head," she laughed.

"Who? Pirate? He already has a big head. I'll just go and deflate it then, shall I?" I sniffed. Sparrow just laughed and shook her head.

"Just watch out for Spot," she warned. "Who knows why he stepped in earlier, but watch out for when he does." Her voice was very dry.

"Yeah, well, I can look after myself," I muttered.

*~*Later (again)*~*

"So, how'd you find Brooklyn?" Cat asked, leaning over her bunk. I shrugged and continued to stare at the wood grains of the bottom of her bunk. They were quite fascinating, in the right mind set.

"It's alright. Not too different from Manhattan. Yet," I added as an after thought. Let's see, my knives where put away, my bag was under my bed, my hat on the bunk, and my necklaces around my neck. Plus, I now knew where to find food and a friend. Couldn't I please go to sleep?

Cat grinned at me. Her long brown hair made a curtain around her head. "Well, just wait until you get a finicky customer. Or until someone here picks a fight with you. Hey, Sparks, you up for another round?"

"Fat chance. Not unless she looses the knives," Sparks called out from the opposite end of the room. Thankfully she was near the door, so she had left before I had this morning.

"If it would make it easier for you," I drawled. "I don't care. Just give me a good reason. Although I'd really rather take on Jackal."

Cat raised her eyebrows at me. Although, the way she was positioned, it almost looked like the were lowered since they aimed at the floor. "Well, now, that's something. Any reason why?"

"He's a jerk," I said lazily. "Does it matter?"

I heard some small laughs around the room, and was glad that the boys' room was further down the hall.

"We all know he's a jerk," Sparrow commented. "But he's a strong jerk. Not many people can take him on in a fight.

"Well, is that a fair fight?" I asked. Cat shook her head. "Okay, then. I'll just take him on in a not fair fight." Cat grinned and retreated back to her bunk.

"G'night," she called. Several more "good nights" were muttered sleepily around the room.

I shut my eyes and made myself a list of what to do the next day. Sell some more papes, go the bakery, find the restaurant....

Somewhere in the middle I drifted off to sleep.

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**Thanks you to those you reviewed the last chapter and/or added it! It made me feel so happy and I apologize again for the long wait! Hopefully you still read this and like it!**

**While you wait for the next chapter, how about sending me your reactions? Who likes Pirate? :D  
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	6. I pick my own fights!

**Chapter Six is up! A little bit of action in this one, and a little bit of Spot. ;)**

**Thank you people who are still reading this. I feel bad that I don't update more often. But! I just watched Newsies the other day, so maybe I'll get some more inspiration. Feel free to send my any ideas you have, those help too. :)  
**

***witty disclaimer here* Ace, Sparks, Pilot, Jackal, Cat, Pirate, Ben = mine. Anyone you recognize from the movie = not mine. (Which in this chapter is mostly just Spot)**

**Enjoy!**

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**Ch 6 – I pick my own fights!**

I had a headache the next day as I went and got my papes. The sky seemed to reflect my mood with gray clouds. I really hoped it would rain. Then maybe I could go sit up on the roof and not be disturbed by everyone else who went up there. Everyone else being about three people.

"Hey, Artemis, you okay?" Cat put a hand on my shoulder as she peered at me. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"I hate your bunk, Cat," I semi-growled, my head too mushy to really get angry. "Did I mention that it gave me a concussion?" Yup. Artemis sat up way too fast this morning, forgot there was a bunk there – hey, I'm no morning person – and got slammed in the head.

Cat just gave me a wry grin. "Yeah, ya did. After about two minutes of swearing at it. That was some pretty impressive language, by the way. Where'd ya learn all of that?"

"Here and there." I rubbed my forehead with the back of my right hand, while trying to keep the twenty papes I had bought from falling from my left hand. I was so out of it, I just realized that I had not strapped my two knives inside my arms. Bugger. Well, Ben didn't work in a particularly hazardous place...that I could remember.

"Today is going to be a bad day," I muttered.

"No, really?" Sparks drawled on the other side of Cat. "An' what _evah_ gave you _dat_ idea?" While the blond newsie and I weren't exactly on friendly terms at the moment, we didn't hate each other either. Weird, the way things work out like that.

If my head hadn't hurt so bad, I would have laughed. Sparks _hates_ the rain, apparently. She kept glaring up at the clouds, before shouting, "Rain! I dare ya!" We laughed at her as a few pedestrians gave us weird looks.

"Oh, don't say dat," Pirate pipped up next to me. Well, he at least wasn't quiet enough to sneak up on me. "If it rains, my poah hair will be flattened." Ever the comedian, Pirate tossed his head.

"Your head's already flat," I retorted. "Look, I'll see you guys later, maybe. I need to look for that restaurant after I'm done selling." Cat nodded as Sparks shrugged.

"Do ya want company?" Pirate asked, serious. "You still don't know yoah way around Brooklyn, right?" I gave him a tired grin.

"Nah, I'll be fine. I remember a bit of where it is. And besides, I can fight, remember?" I said, shooting a grin at Sparks.

"Yeah, I'll see you fight today after dat bump on yoah head," Sparks muttered.

"Is dat what we heard dis mornin'?" Pirate asked. "There was an awful lot of noise comin' from da goils' room." He nudged me.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up you," I muttered. "I'm off!" With that, I waved and started walking slightly south – I think it was south, anyway – towards where I remembered Simple Tastes to be. Behind me I heard shouts of head lines, all fabricated, and the first jingles of coins as pennies were traded for papes.

"Extra! Extra! Mayor's daughter corrupted! Read all about it!" I shouted, waving my last paper. An old man gave me a coin without looking at me for the pape. "Thank you, sir!" I said in mock thanks as he walked away. I looked around me. If what they had told me yesterday at the restaurant was correct, then I should have just five more blocks to go to get to Simple Tastes. Except, my stomach growled at me.

"Of all the times," I muttered. "And just a little further to go, too." I sighed and swung my pack around. Anticipating – among other things – my usual hunger around noon, I had brought my pack with me with some apples from the nuns' cart. Yell at me later for stealing food from nuns. It's two apples and a pear. I _love_ pears. Besides, it's going to a poor newsie's tummy.

Another use for my pack is storing food on the way home. Ben always gives me all the leftovers from the last few days, and the food from that place is really good. Not always the easiest to carry home, but good. With some luck, Ben should still be working there, and I wouldn't have to buy dinner, or maybe even lunch tomorrow.

I had just finished my pear – it was delicious, by the way – and had started on an apple, when I heard someone step up behind me.

"Well, well, lookit what we have heah," Jackal growled. "A little lost boid, all on her own." I turned to face him. He stood barely three feet away from me, grinning. I frowned and bit into my apple again (a fight may be about to break out, but I have my priorities). Had he been following me this whole time? Really?

"Can't you even say 'bird' correctly, Jackal?" I sighed in pity. "Really. I think I may have to side with Race on this. Manhattan may just be the smarter of the two boroughs." I shrugged, nibbling on my apple.

"Just keep talking smart, why don't ya? You ain't got Spot to protect you now," Jackal threatened, taking a step towards me. I backed up a few steps and found myself at the mouth of an alley. I could see the corner where the restaurant was, a few blocks down. If I had been able to run, I might have made it there before Jackal caught me. Then again, Ben would never forgive me for bringing a fight into the place where he worked.

I turned and ran deeper into the alley, taking random turns here and there. Soon enough I was lost when on of the turns opened into a wider back area. I turned to face Jackal.

"Well, lookit here," I mocked his earlier comment. "Da Jackal kept up. Guess they didn't give you that name for nothing." I was really going to have to stop smart talking soon. My head was hurting again, and I didn't have my knives.

Jackal snarled at me. "You better hope you have nine lives, Arty, cuz I'm taking as many as I can right here."

"Is this really about the root beer?" I asked. "Or are you just pissed because Spot caught you again?" Jackal glared at me and bunched his hands into fists. I'd have to watch out for those. One good hit and I'd probably go down. For all that he didn't seem to be the brightest, he was probably a good fighter. "And I don't need Spot to help me!" I told him coldly. "I can take care of my own problems!"

Jackal swung at my head as I ducked. I tried to roll away, but there wasn't that much space. I dropped my pack off, hoping my last apple would still be good for later. Fights made me hungry.

Jackal faced me again, and charged. He swung and I grabbed his arm, helping him fly over my hip as I threw him onto his back. I head was starting to hurt more. Stupid bunk. If I lost this fight because of it, I was going to make Cat switch with me. Jackal groaned and got to his feet. If looks could kill, he'd be glaring daggers.

"Good grief, don't you ever stay down?" I quipped. I rubbed my forehead and ducked as Jackal punched again. Too bad I forgot about his feet. As I ducked – avoiding a blow Jackal wasn't actually going to throw – he kicked out at me. I threw up my arms in front of my face, warding off the worst of the blow, but I still went flying back a few feet.

When my back hit the wall, my head spun a bit. _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. _I thought violently to myself. _Not good, not good. Don't faint, he'll probably dump you in the river! _Yeah. That's how my brain works.

Jackal picked me up and held me against the wall. "Not so cocky now, are we?" he grinned. I wrinkled my nose at him. Before he could fit in another stupid comment, I punched him in the nose. Swearing, he dropped me. I fell about a foot. While he held his nose – which I saw was starting to bleed – I kicked him in the crotch. Moaning, he went down.

"Not the most honorable shot, I know," I apologized. "But I'm really not in the mood to fight fair. If you wanna fight me again sometime, let me know." Rubbing my head with one hand, I walked over to my pack and dug out the other apple. Walking past Jackal to the other entrance of this little area, I stopped to look at him.

"I really hope you know your way around," I said. "I sure don't." He glared at me as I turned and walked away.

This alley opened up onto a more crowed street. I saw one of the street signs had the name of one of the streets the restaurant sat on. Looks like I had gone down a few blocks. I bit my apple and looked around.

"Hey, Artemis!" I turned to see Sparks heading for me, another newsie walking next to her. This boy had brown hair and eyes, and a straight nose.

"I thought you were heading out dat restaurat or whatever," Sparks said, looking at me with one eyebrow raised. "An' yoah bleedin'." She pointed to my right hand, which held my apple. It was also the one that had been on top when I had blocked Jackal's kick. There was indeed a scratch on it, bleeding out a few drops.

"Oops," I said. I licked it. "All better!" I grinned cheerfully at her. Sparks just rolled her eyes. "And I am heading for Simple Tastes. I just ran into some trouble. Who's this?"

"Oh, right, dis here's Pilot. He's kinda like the second in command heah," Sparks said, jerking her thumb at him. Pilot was good looking enough. His nose hadn't been broken yet, at least.

"Hello," he greeted me, tipping his hat slightly. "Did you run into Jackal?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" I asked, looking up at him. Pilot grinned.

"He's da only newsie I know dat would fight a goil in a back alley. Well, at least the only one I know like dat from Brooklyn, anyways," he ammended. He pointed over my shoulder. Jackal was walking out from an alley twenty feet down from where I had come out. It looked like he nose had stopped bleeding at least. Seeing us watching him, Jackal glared and walked off, slightly bent over.

"What'd ya do ta him?" Pilot aked. He narrowed his eyes as he watched Jackal walk.

"I kicked him in the crotch," I shrugged. I continued to eat my apple as Sparks laughed and Pilot raised his eyebrows, looking from me to the still retreating Jackal.

"Well," Pilot finally said when Sparks had stopped and was only snickering . "He's definitely gonna hate you now. Might wanna watch out foah him. He's got no problem pickin' on anyone."

"Didn't Spot teach him, the other day?" Sparks asked, looking at Pilot.

"Yeah, he did," Pilot answered, still watching Jackal as he turned the corner. "I guess Jackal forgot." Sparks looked at him for another second before seeing that I watched her. I raised my eyebrows slightly at her. She just glared at me.

"This time, um, it may have been my fault," I said. Pilot looked at me. "He spilled my root beer at Medda's party, so I made him hurt a bit. Then Spot caught him." Pilot grinned.

"That would make him mad again," Pilot laughed. "Well, I should go tell Spot." When he turned to leave, I grabbed his arm.

"Wait! Please don't tell Spot," I begged. "Jackal already hates me for getting him caught last time. Besides, I really, _really_ don't want Spot involved in this." Pilot raised an eyebrow at me, then shrugged.

"Okay, fine," he sighed, his hands raised in defeat. "But if he picks a fight with you again, I'm gonna have ta tell Spot. Jackal makes enough trouble already." Pilot tipped his hat at Sparks and me and left.

Turning to Sparks, I said, "So, you and Pilot?" She glared at me.

"No," she said tersely, watching him walk away to make sure he didn't hear.

"But...you like him, right?" I hedged. Sparks shrugged.

"He's called Pilot foah a reason, Artemis," she quipped. "Just like I'm called Sparks for a reason. He's in control, an' I'm always flyin' off the handle."

"So?" I retorted. "Opposites attract." Sparks rolled her eyes again. "Besides, I'm called Artemis for a reason. I can't get a guy." That made her smile a bit.

"Yeah, whatever. Just go find dat place you were lookin' for." My eyes widened.

"Oh, shoot!" I cried. "I'm gonna be late! See ya later!" I dashed off to the corner of the street, searching for which way I should turn. Left or right? Right or left? Finally I picked left and started trotting my way down the street. I saw Hunts Lane. I breathed a sigh of relief as I raced across the street.

Rule one of Artemis's book on restaurants where you know people: Never enter by the front door if you want to see them, or expect free food.

Rule number two: don't bring in fights. This includes looking like you just were in a fight.

Going with my second rule, I dusted off my cap and shoulders as I walked around to the alley on the side. Going to the door, I opened it slowly, poking my head in and looking around for a familiar face.

Inside the kitchen was noisy, with everyone preparing, serving, or cleaning up lunch. I shut the door behind me and stood there, looking for Ben. I spotted him by a sink, washing some huge pot that had probably held soup. I hoped he had saved some for me. It may have been summer, but Cook makes some seriously good soups. So long as there were no mushrooms in it.

Another kitchen boy saw me standing there and tapped Ben on the shoulder, then pointed at me. Ben turned his blond head, and his mouth broke into a grin. _Wait there_ he mouthed to me. It was far too noisy and chaotic to try shouting across. I nodded and relaxed against the door. A few people nodded to me as they passed by my spot. I was no stranger to _this_ place.

A few minutes later, Ben walked over. A year older than me, he stood a good nine inches above my five feet and four. The only thing he had in common with his older brother was their last name and their blond hair. Well, and their height. Brent had been even taller.

"So, Artemis, come to scavenge a little more?" Ben laughed, wiping his hands on a towel. The apron he wore was stained with various ingredients. He smelled like a kitchen as he hugged me. I laughed and hugged him back.

"But of course," I said haughtily, my nose in the air. "Why else would I come? It certainly would not be for your company." I sniffed, adding to the effect. Ben just laughed at me again.

"Of course," he chortled. "C'mon over here, I got some food for you. How've you been? It's been, what, two months?" Ben led me over to the now empty counter by the sink. He patted the space where I usually sat next to the sink, and started searching the cabinets for the food he had stashed. "Hey, Cook! Where's the food?"

"In the cold box, where it always goes!" Cook hollered from across the kitchen. I swear, he's got lungs that would put the Bulls to shame. When he yells, he _yells._

"Of course," Ben muttered. "Artemis disappears for a few months, and where does he keep my food? In her box." I grinned at him.

"You should be honored, using my box." I smiled prettily. Ben snorted.

"It's an extra box to keep ice. Not exactly fancy," he retorted. Coming back with a plate and a bowl, he handed them to me. "Here. I kept one sandwich, and one bowl of vegetable soup for you. The soup's still hot."

"Yum!" I eagerly dug into the sandwich. "I fweah, I could eat fif foah evah," I mumbled around my food. Ben wrinkled his nose as he got back to washing the dishes that had piled up again.

"Will you eat with your mouth shut? Good grief, I know my brother taught you better than that," Ben quipped. I saddened for a moment.

"How's your family, been, Ben?" I asked, putting down my sandwich.

"Oh, they're fine," Ben shrugged. "They disowned Brett over ten years ago, why shouldn't they be fine? Mum didn't even know until a month ago that he'd died. The money he sent kept coming until then, so why would she have cared?" Ben spat out the last sentence. Water sloshed noisily around the walls of the sink. "Eat your sandwich," he commanded, seeing that I wasn't eating. I put up my hands in defense before picking it up again. After another bite I commented.

"You know, I never really understood why he did that. Every month, he sent her five dollars."

"Didn't Brett tell you?" Ben asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, he did," I answered, chewing. "Something about paying back the debt for his life or whatever." I shrugged. Brett hadn't always made sense, but then again that had just been him. I never understood why he taught me fighting and theft either, but it had helped.

"Brett's own personal little joke for them throwing him out," Ben barked a laugh. Then he sighed. "I guess he just felt sorry for them. Well, whatever. You almost done with that?" I nodded. The food here was _way_ too delicious after street food and orphanage food to just let sit. "Okay, then I have an errand for you."

"_What?!" _I squawked. Ben just raised an eyebrow at me.

"No buts, Artemis," he warned. "It's just a quick job. Run over to this store and pick up the items. They'll be in a bag and they're already paid for. You just get them and come back." He handed me a slip of paper. On the opposite side was a map, and the warning: _Don't get lost or you won't get more food!_

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ben," I drawled, hopping down. "I'll be back in a bit." I dodged running kitchen boys and waiters as I ducked back out the same door I came in. Looking down at the map and directions, I squawked.

"This is back towards the lodging house!!" Too bad there was no one in the alley to hear me.

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"Here you are, dear," the lady behind the grocery store's counter said, _finally_ giving me the items Ben had sent me for. "And I put a little something in there for you, too."

"Thank you," I smiled at her. Well, at least I was getting some food out of this.

I walked outside and rummaged around the bag. Score! A muffin! It looked home made, too. Nyom nyom nyom. Munching on the delightful and much needed treat, I surveyed the "map" once again. Now, which route to take? I turned the map back and forth. Well, there was the long way around...which would probably make my feet hurt, and I would possibly annoy Ben by getting back really late. There was the short way, which, although I wouldn't have the fun of annoying Ben, I would probably get more free food that way. Hmmm. Priorities, priorities. Short way it is, then.

"Artemis?" I twitched out of my reverie of path ponderings. Spot?? What the heck? Yet there he was, walking towards me and spinning his cane around with one hand.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Wasn't it still selling time?

Spot just smirked at me. "This place sells cheap food," he said slowly, pointing to the store. "I'm hungry."

I frowned at him. "Okay...but isn't it far from the docks?" Spot just smirked even wider.

"Dere right there," he said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. "Three blocks." I blinked.

"Are you serious?" I squawked. "I thought it was further. That's it, Ben _definitely_ owes me more food!" I fumed silently while Spot just raised his eyebrows.

"Didn't know they sold muffins here." I looked at the half I held.

"I'm running an errand for Ben, and since they took so long and I'm so cute, the lady gave me some food," I sniffed. My hat scratched my head, so I took it off to readjust. Just as I was about to put it back on, Spot grabbed my hand.

"Hey!" I squawked – yet again. Enough with the squawking! Spot's eyes just narrowed on something on my forehead.

"How'd you get dat shinah on yoah face?" he asked. His voice had gone eerily calm. I swallowed. His hand was cool around my wrist, and his gray eyes were even colder. Seeing my confused look, Spot let go and gently traced a finger along the top of my left eyebrow. Pulling his hand back, he looked at something on his finger before turning it around to me. Blood. I immediately smacked my hand to my face, and winced at the sore spot. Indeed, there was a little bit of blood there.

"How did that happened?" I wondered to myself. I definitely didn't remember getting hit in the face. Maybe when he kicked me?

"When who kicked you?" Spot asked. I stared up at him. Oops. Said that out loud.

"Don't wanna tell you," I hedged like a five year old. Spot was still in his "ice" personality, and personally, I didn't want to know what he would do if he found out that I had been in a fight with Jackal again.

"Tell me," he ordered. His voice was scary calm, like he was just asking about the weather or if my muffin was good. Suddenly I had lost my appetite. I shook my head, not looking at him.

"Artemis. Look at me," Spot ordered again, but this time with more steel in his voice. I reluctantly met his gaze. His cane was holstered, and his arms were crossed. With his hat on, there was a slight shadow on his face.

"I kind of......got in a fight with Jackal again," I blurted. I wanted so badly to look away from Spot, but I got the feeling that would be a very bad idea with him. I think my whole body tensed into a rock while I waited for Spot to answer me. His eyes just flicked from mine, to the cut on my forehead, down to my right hand, and back.

"Where did you fight?"

"I don't know." When Spot just stared at me I continued. "No, seriously Spot, I don't know. I was just going over to the restaurant when he came out from behind me. I ran into an alley and ended up fighting him there." Part of my brain noticed that the bag I was holding was starting to feel heavy.

"Was it a dead end?"

"Yeah..."

Spot nodded. "Alright. I think I know where you were. Dere's only so many places ta fight over in dat area." I just stared at him.

"Do you have a map drawn in your head or something?" I asked.

Spot gave a small laugh. "Artemis, I been living here longer den you. I think I would know my own place." I frowned. Hmph. Arrogant, personality shifting... I sniffed at him.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Can I leave now?" I shifted the bag in my arms again. Ben had some serious paying up to do. Spot nodded, serious again.

"But you better tell me next time he does dis. You had Pilot keep quiet, didn't you?" Spot's gaze was on me once again. Determined not to be intimidated, I stared right back. If I said I wasn't at least a little bit intimidated, I'd be lying. But I had to respect him, at least a little bit. Spot did a good job noticing things.

"Well...maybe. I don't want Jackal to start harassing me all the time. So figured if you didn't know you wouldn't humiliate him more," I shrugged. Spot sighed and shook his head.

"Nice thought, but next time don't try it. Jackal's a problem, and I have ta deal with him," Spot said. He tipped his hat and walked into the store. I watched for a minute. Spot started flirting with a girl behind the counter. I had to laugh. That girl was seriously flustered. Well, Spot was kind of cute, when he wasn't being a jerk. Shaking my head I started walking back to Simple Tastes. Maybe I could get Jack to adjust the time for this bet. Summer looked like it wasn't going to be very interesting.

Now when would I see Manhattan again?

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**Thanks to fanta778 and White-Dragon-of-Hope for adding this to your favorites/alerts!**

**Thank you Eavis for commenting! ^.^**

**C'mon, Newsies fans! I know you're out there!  
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	7. Fancy Meetings

**Chapter seven is up! Finally! My appologies for the wait (as usual). This chapter has a little bit more action in it (sort of). The scene was kind of hard to write, but I hope you enjoy it!**

**Thank you to all who reviewed, and to those who have picked up the story!**

**Artemis, Pirate, Cat, Sparrow, and other Brooklynites (besides Spot) are mine. Jack, Spot, and co. are not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 7 – Fancy Meetings**

"I'm bein' serious heah," Pirate tried to convince me as we sold papers together the next day. "If you took dat Warden Schneider and Spot and put dem together, you would get the ruler of the universe. All mean and glarin' at ya." I laughed, trying hard not to get distracted by Pirates crazy antics. This was the third time he had made up a crazy story just as I was starting to get more customers than him.

"What have you got against Spot, anyway?" I asked, still giggling. "I mean, the Warden? Sure. But Spot?" I thought about it for a minute. Pirate was quiet, selling two papes. "Actually, I can see why you'd hate Spot. He can be a jerk. And that personality switch of his that he does? Euch." I wrinkled my nose. A well-dressed girl who passed me gave me a look. As she walked away I stuck my tongue out at her. Pirate laughed at me.

"Keep that kind of thing up and you'll never do well here in Brooklyn. You'll have ta move back ta 'Hattan," Pirate said easily, giving me one of his trademark smiles. I just shook my head at him. "Of course, then you wouldn't have to deal with Jackal, either." Pirate shot me a look, glancing at my forehead. I rolled my eyes. I had passed Jackal that morning, and it had looked like he might have come over to say something nasty again. Except that Pirate had come up and walked next to me, with Cat and Colt on the other side and Sparks trailing behind us with Pilot. I hadn't seen Spot, and was kind of glad for the reprieve. Jackal probably would have fled in terror if Spot had also been there. Ha.

"Well, I'm sure that Cowboy would be absolutely _ecstatic_ at having me back in Manhattan," I drawled. Pirate frowned.

"What's dat word mean?"

"'Ecstatic'? Um, really happy or pleased. Excited." Pirate snorted.

"Fancy mouth, dere Arty," he laughed. I glared at him.

"Don't call me Arty. Jackal called me that, and I would like to punch him in the face for it."

Pirate laughed. "Aw, you couldn't hoit me. Besides, when I say it, it's a compliment." He grabbed me around the shoulders in a hug. I had learned _very_ quickly that Pirate can be very huggy. It's cute, but sometimes it gets on my nerves. But, I decided to let it go. Pirate was funny.

"Hey, hey, hey," I protested mildly. "Artemis does not appreciated being grabbed like a kitten off the street." I flailed my arms about. As he let go a young gentleman came over to check that I was okay. He bought a pape and tipped me a quarter.

"See? I'm good luck foah ya." Pirate grinned at me again. It was kind of nice how he smiled at me, instead of _smirking._ "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

"Spot." Seeing Pirate's smile disappear and frown start to take place, I backtracked quickly. "I mean, it's nice that _you_ actually _smile_ at me. _Spot_ just _smirks._" I wrinkled my nose again. Apparently that was good enough, because Pirate smiled again. Not as much, but he smiled. There was a story here, and I would like to know it.

"So youse know that dere's a party over in Manhattan tonight, right?" Pirate asked as we went back to selling. I shook my head, yelling out my latest phony headline. "Well, dere is. Medda's hosting us again. Be nice ta get outta da heat foah a bit. An' Medda's always got root beer or somethin'."

"Any other boroughs gonna be there?" Pirate was through with his papers, waiting for me patiently by leaning against a lamppost.

"Maybe Coney Island or Harlems. Da Bronx don't usually come unless it's for somethin' big, and Queens don't like us so much." I tried to remember which burrow Medda had said brings booze with them. Whenever there's alcohol, there's a fight. And where there's a fight…well, I think you can guess.

"What time are we going over there?" I asked Pirate, done selling for the morning. I was proud of myself. Barely my first week here in Brooklyn and I had already sold my papes faster than the first day. Pirate and I fell into step easily, heading to Ray's to relax and eat in a more leisurely manner.

"Probably after everyone's done sellin'. Well, after Colt 'n' the rest of the runners are done."

"Runners?" I frowned. Did I know that term? Was I supposed to?

"Yeah. Colt, Blade, Cat, sometimes Sparrow, and a coupla other newsies here double as messengers, sort of. They go an' check things out foah Spot. Rememba da other day when Spot told Colt ta meet him later?" I smirked at him.

"Pirate, that was the day before yesterday."

"Poah Arty, wounding me again with yoah harsh woids." Pirate put a hand comically over his heart before continuing, "Well, Colt's da best runner here in Brooklyn. Him and Blade usually work together cuz Colt's real good at runnin' an' Blade's real good at fightin'. They go anywhere, even Queens and da Bronx. Sparrow usually just goes ta 'Hattan or Coney Island or Midtown. And Cat goes where she pleases. Sometimes ta Bronx since she knows some o' da newsies dere. She'll go to Harlem a lot." By now we were about two blocks from Ray's. I looked down an alley that we passed and stopped. You could see right through to the other street.

_That couldn't be him…could it? But then, if that was him, who was standing next to him? Unless…._I started to break into a cold sweat, unhappy about where my thoughts were taking me.

"Hey, Arty? Artemis? _Artemis!_"

"Woah, what?"

Pirate waved a hand in my face. "You alright? I know da summer's harsh, but you get used to it, sorta." Staring (up) only at Pirate, I ignored the alley. At least Pirate didn't think it was that weird that I had stopped then.

"Fine, fine," I said. "Can we just go in so I can get some water?" Pirate gave me another one of his gallant wide smiles. He bowed comically again.

"After you, me lady."

Almost no one was there yet, so we just sat down and started talking about anything that we felt like ranting about. I sat facing the door, and would comment on people walking by for Pirate's benefit. When Sparks and Cat came in we started ordering our food. Newsies have bottomless stomachs, and ordering can take a while when the restaurant gets crowded. It was funny when Blade came in with Colt. Sparks was sitting next to me, and Cat had pulled up a chair and table. So while Colt had an easy choice of where to sit, Blade was at a loss. Grinning, I pointed out Sparrow who had just walked in the door. Colt grabbed another seat and sat at the end of the table with Cat, while the other two sat next to each other.

"So, Colt," Sparks started. "Know who's commin' ta Medda's tonight?" Colt looked up.

"Dunno. Headin' over later. Wanna come?" Sparks shook her head.

"Nah, you run too fast. Any Queens?" Sparks grinned evilly at the thought. Pilot walked by just then and over heard. He looked at Sparks.

"Sparks, we know that you love ta pick on 'em, an' we know youse can win. But if they come, lay off foah a bit, will ya? Spot's got somethin' going on with 'em right now." Then he just tipped his hat and walked over to another table. The big guy he sat next to I recognized as one of the ones Sparrow had told me not to fight with: Badger. Looking at Sparks, I saw the tips of her ears were pink.

I nudged her.

She nudged me back, a little harder. I grinned.

I didn't see Jackal all during lunch. On one had I was pleased. On the other, I was worried. Very, very worried.

In my experience with bullies, if you beat them, then they get really mad at you. And if you don't see them soon, then they're planning something, and that's not good. But maybe I was thinking too much again.

Spot walked in and I jumped, remembering what he had told me yesterday.

"Hey, um, does Spot ever, ah, humiliate any of his newsies? Say, publicly?" I asked the table. Cat just stared at me. Blade laughed.

"'Course he does, Arty," he chuckled. "What kinda King of Brooklyn would he be if he didn't remind us who's in charge once in a while?"

"You forget dat most of us don't have our heads stuck up our bums," Colt drawled. "Unlike a few certain newsies who _insist_ on da reminda."

"Does he have anything special planned for Jackal?" I asked. Pirate watched me. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged.

"It's possible," Sparrow spoke up. "Jackal's been pushing Spot to the edge a lot recently. Not that you'd really be able to tell, Spot being the icey guy he is." Everyone nodded. I shrugged.

Heading out of the restaurant, I decided that I might as well skip the afternoon papes. They never sold as well as the morning, anyway.

Besides, I had an alley to investigate.

Walking along towards where I had seen some rather familiar figures, I checked the placement of my knives. I didn't think it would come to a fight, but it was always better to be prepared. _Left arm, right arm, back, necklace, left leg…check, check, check._ I had left one back at the lodging house. Ah, well. I could feel my lunch digesting. Lovely. That meant I was nervous. Breathe, Artemis, keep breathing.

I hoped my heart would last through this, at least.

Turning down the path, I peered out to the other street. I saw a clothing store that looked like it might be a good place to start. If they were still here, they would have made their way down to the end by now.

_Bingo._ I walked in, careful to keep at least two rows between me and the two men I was now "following." Well, more like the one older man and the boy with him. I say boy because he looked to be about my age, probably three or so years younger, maybe fifteen at the oldest. Still, he was tall, as tall as the man he stood next to.

_My father._

A man I had hoped to never see again, and, after ten years of living with someone else, I was beginning to think maybe I wouldn't see him again. I mean, I ran away when I was _seven._ Around here, most people assumed their kid was gone for good if they didn't find them after a week or two. At least, when they're that little.

Figuring it was time to make a tactical retreat, I headed for the door. The girl at the counter wished me a nice day. I turned around to smile at her, and saw him looking at me.

_Don't show fear, don't show fear. He probably doesn't even remember he has a daughter any more. I'm dead to him. Dead. Gone. You're a newsie now, and you're wearing your cap. Walk out._

I walked briskly for the corner, figuring I'd walk another block or two before looping back around to the docks.

"'Scuze me, miss?" a voice spoke up behind me. I turned around to see the boy standing behind me. He held up a coin. "You dropped this. Being a newsie and all, I figured you wouldn't want to lose even a little bit."

"Oh," was my bright response. I was a block away from the shop. I put my hand in my pocket: my coin bag was still there, completely shut. I was pretty sure that nothing had dropped out. And how'd he know I was a girl? Most of my hair was tucked up under my hat again, and my clothes were on the looser side. Even some of the newsies had mistaken me for a boy sometimes.

"Here," he said, holding the coin out. Not to be rude – and I could always use a little extra – I took the coin.

"Would you mind coming to meet my father?"

My head snapped up. _Did he just say…?_

"Uh…who?" The boy jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"He's just back there. He's interested in meeting you."

"Why does he want to meet me? I'm just a newsie," I asked, backing up a step. Something here was not right.

"Well, see, he said that you…remind him of someone. Someone he knew once," the boy answered.

"I'm sorry, but he couldn't possibly know me. I'm an orphan." I backed up a few more steps, intending to leave. He stepped forward in response to my retreat.

"Oh, but you see, you look just like his late wife. Or, your eyes do anyway, and your face a little. Your eyes are just a little brighter green." The boy cocked his head sideways at me. _Don't say I look like Mom…I already know that. _I could see that he really didn't look _that_ young, probably fifteen at the youngest.

"That's very sweet of him, really, but I don't know anyone here in Brooklyn," I stammered out quickly. I backed up even more now, preparing to turn and run. This had gone much too far. I needed to get out.

"Artemis."

I froze. _Excuse me?_

"Ah ha. See, I knew it was you," he smiled triumphantly. "Well, Father knew, but he sent me after you. Thought we forgot?"

"Wh-what?"

He shook his head. "Did you really think that coming back to Brooklyn was a good idea? Even as a newsie. Although, we really live more in Queens, but still." He shrugged and stepped forward. I started retreating even faster now. "Well, he wants to see you now. Best not to keep him waiting. Let's go." He reached out, as if to take my by the shoulder or by the arm.

That snapped me out of it. Seeing him reach for me, I turned and bolted through the crowd, unaware of who I shoved into what. My mind was a blank, filled with only the fear of being caught, and one thought: _RUN._

Behind me he was calling out my name.

"Artemis! You can't run forever! Artemis!"

I dashed down an alley, turned out into another street, and headed for the next one. I headed for the Brooklyn Bridge, hell bent on getting to Manhattan. I could see the docks. Behind me, my pursuer kept calling out, racing after me.

Please, please, please, just leave me alone! Just go back to pretending I'm dead, that I don't exist anymore. _I don't want to see you!!!_

My heart started pounding out of rhythm. I could feel it in my chest, pounding too hard, too fast. I had to stop, needed to keep running, and I was almost there. If I went down here, they'd take me back and I'd never get out.

_Please, please, please, just a little bit further._

"Artemis?"

* * *

**Spot POV**

Spot headed for the docks where he would keep his "court" for the afternoon. He didn't always go there immediately after Ray's, but he had some deals to work out with a few boroughs. Any newsies that wanted to talk to Spot knew they could find him down by the docks in the afternoon.

Walking towards the river, Spot listened to the noise of Brooklyn, letting it spill into his ears without paying too much attention. Someone yelled somewhere, but that was normal. Brooklyn was tougher than most of the other boroughs, Spot took pride in being the King of Brooklyn. At eighteen, he held control over a notoriously famous group of newsies.

Twirling his gold-topped cane in one hand, he cut through an alley that would lead him faster to the docks. Stepping out, he almost crashed into a smaller figure that came flying down the street.

"Artemis?"

Artemis's head popped up, her eyes wide and frightened. Behind her, a youth of a few years younger came running from out of another alley. Artemis shot a frantic look over her shoulder at the boy pursuing her, and then back up at Spot. Her eyes clearly read _Get out of my way or help me hide!_

Spot's first reaction to her as one of his newsies was: _What trouble have you brought to Brooklyn?_ Brooklyn might be infamous for its fights, but they were always for a reason. Well, usually. He couldn't speak for _all_ of his newsies on that.

Spot's first reaction to Artemis as a girl was: _What help do you need?_ Hearing her harsh breathing, it took Spot half a second to react, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her back into the alley he had just come out of, his cane already holstered.

Artemis had teased Spot about having a map of Brooklyn drawn out in his head, but it was pretty close to the truth. When you grew up there, you learned it fast. Especially the alley ways, and no one knew them better than Spot. It was one of the reasons he was King. Spot loved this particular set of alleys because they all connected.

Spot took several turns, listening both to the rate at which Artemis was breathing, and for any signs of pursuit. He knew that the boy had seen them go into the alley. The question was: would he be able to follow? And Spot knew the answer was "no." Spying crates stacked in a nearby turn, Spot quickly ducked behind them and shoved Artemis against the wall. They were completely hidden by the crates. Waiting for the boy to run past, Spot looked at the way he was standing. He was leaning with his hands against the wall, on either side of Artemis's head. Artemis, however, was completely oblivious to the close quarters, gasping with her hand against her throat. Spot turned his head back towards the alley, listening.

When Spot was sure the coast was clear, he looked back down at Artemis. She was slumped against the wall, her head down and eyes shut. With her cap on, Spot didn't have a clear view of her face. Slightly miffed that she wasn't paying attention to him – although Spot couldn't exactly blame her, as she had been running hell bent down the street for probably a while – Spot shoved off the wall and walked over to a nearby crate and sat down.

"Hey," Spot started, trying to get her attention. Problems in Brooklyn always had to be sorted out quickly. When Artemis only sank down to the crate next to her, Spot tried again. "Artemis. Look at me." Artemis appeared to be in her own little world. Hearing someone passing by, Spot stood up to check the alley. He didn't get very far when he felt a tug on his shirt.

"Don't look," Artemis said in a faint voice. "Don't look, they'll find me." She wasn't looking up at Spot, but rather straight ahead at the wall of crates they hid behind. Artemis had grabbed the edge of his shirt. Her other hand was clenched around two necklaces. Spot carefully turned around and knelt in front of her.

"Who was chasing you?" Spot asked, looking at her. Up close, Spot could see that her eyes weren't all the same green. They were mostly a darker green with lighter flecks in them. These eyes flicked back and forth quickly. Spot snapped his fingers in front of her face. Artemis jerked, now staring him in the eyes. "Who was dat?" Artemis shook her head and looked down. Spot rolled his eyes. This tactic again? Well, no one ever won a staring contest with him.

"Artemis, I can't have people in Brooklyn chasin' after one of my newsies," Spot said. Artemis shook her head again.

"It's not Brooklyn," she muttered. "They're from Queens." In the back of his mind, Spot swore at Queens again. Even when they weren't directly fighting with Brooklyn, it seemed that they made problems in other ways. That was just Spot's luck.

Artemis took in a breath, as if to steady herself. Spot waited for her to start, settling himself on a crate. He was good at dealing with girls, and part of that was that Spot was good at waiting.

"They're just…confused. Sort of."

"An' how exactly are dey 'sort of' confused?" Spot stared straight at her. Artemis looked up at Spot.

"I ran away when I was small. They should have thought I was _dead_." This time Artemis didn't break her gaze. "I forgot that man never lets anything go. Especially since I have _this._" Artemis held up the small silver locket around her neck. With that she lapsed back into silence. Spot stood up and checked the alley.

"Well," Spot started. "You had betta get dis figured out. I won't have Queens making more trouble den they normally do." Artemis looked up at him.

"Where are we?" She turned her head back and forth. Spot jerked his head for her to follow. He noticed she put a hand over her chest before standing. Spot stalked off, silently planning how to deal with Queens today. Good thing they wouldn't be going to the party, at least that much he knew from Colt.

Damn Queens.

"Yoah stayin' at the docks 'til the party," Spot said suddenly.

"What?" Spot pivoted, and Artemis stopped at beat behind him, narrowly avoiding a crash.

"You," Spot pointed. "Are stayin' at da docks for today. I don't need Queens acting up around Brooklyn." Artemis glared up at Spot. If the situation wasn't as serious, Spot would have found it comical.

"You can't just decide this for me!" Artemis snapped. "That boy is probably still looking for me!" Her voice quivered ever so slightly at the end. Spot just crossed his arms and stared at her. Good thing they were still in the alley.

"If someone's lookin' foah you, den the docks are da safest place. No one messes around on my turf."

"You are so _arrogant._"

"An' yoah still shaking," Spot said calmly. Artemis flinched, but held her gaze. Spot had to admit, she had guts. "C'mon." Artemis sighed. Spot took out his cane and twirled it again.

At the docks, a few newsies from other boroughs were waiting around the stack of crates that served as Spot's "throne." Behind them stood the miniature tower Spot had claimed. A few of them gave confused looks at the girl newsie following him, but for the most part ignored her. Spot motioned for her to sit on the dock with Cat. Then he walked over to hold his court.

The rest of the afternoon was routine. Spot listened to a few complaints of his own newsies, got news from two other boroughs, and was still in a rivalry with Queens. A few times when Spot acted bored he would glance over to were Cat and Artemis sat. At first Artemis had just sat there as Cat brushed out her hair. One thing Cat was very good at was calming others down. After a while Spot saw Artemis taking out multiple knives and placing them in a pile next to her. Then she started throwing them into a post. Spot was thankful that he had extremely good control over his expression, because at one point Pirate walked over and almost got hit. Pirate's expression was priceless.

**

* * *

**

**Artemis POV**

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

My knives hit the wood square every time I threw. Cat sat behind me, brushing out my short hair. I had never figured her to be the type to carry a comb around, but then again she _was_ called Cat.

"Don't miss, Artemis," Pirate joked. I glared at him. _Thunk._

"You almost walk into the path of one of my knives, and you're telling me not to miss?" I raised an eyebrow at him. Pirate just grinned and pulled my knives out for me. At the end of the dock I could see the platform where Spot was still sitting, talking to a few newsies. He looked bored and calm at the same time.

Well, I guess when you're Spot Conlon saving girls from kidnapping is just another thing you do. Hmph.

Okay, that wasn't exactly fair. I was grateful that Spot had saved me, and that he hadn't asked too many questions about it. It just…bugged me, the way I couldn't seem to take care of myself like I had wanted to here in Brooklyn. Bah.

"Hey guys," Colt came up, slightly winded. "Spot almost done?"

"I think so," Cat murmured behind me. "And I'm almost done with Artemis's hair." I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Not my fault. It's one of the reason's I keep my hair short." I shrugged. Colt rolled his eyes.

"Great, cuz we should get going." The newsies that had been talking to Spot walked past us. I took my knives and strapped them on again. After what had happened earlier, I was still a little bit jumpy.

I'm not entirely sure that I breathed until we were across the Bridge and in Meda's theater. Manhattan was already there, and noisy. It was kind of weird, hearing someone yell "Brooklyn's here!" and walking in as a Brooklynite when just a little while ago I had been with Manhattan. Either way, I had to find Cowboy to talk about this bet of ours. And the best way to find Jack would be to find Racetrack, Kid Blink, another Manhattaner, or follow Spot. Spot was closest.

I waited while Spot and Jack spit shook (ew). Once I knew that Jack had seen me, I jerked my head towards Meda's bar. Jack managed to detangle himself after a while and walked over. Meda poured us both a root beer and went back to talking to Kid Blink.

"So," Jack started. "Artemis, how are youse enjoyin' Brooklyn?" I snorted.

"Great. I've already gotten into two fights." Jack laughed. "Actually, I wanted to talk about the bet." Jack raised his eyebrows.

"You aren't thinkin' about backin' out, are you?"

"Oh, no. I'm mean, I'm pretty sure I'm going to win. This is Spot we're talking about." Jack just rolled his eyes.

"Yoah so pessimistic, Artemis."

"And you're nuts. You bet that I could make _Spot_ fall for me. Psht. No, I was wondering if we could extend the bet. Say, instead of one month, I get the whole summer. Nothing's going on, at least not now." Jack thought about it.

"Okay…but we still keep da wager."

"Deal." We spit shook again. I was going to have a heart attack today, honestly. First crazy people chasing me, and now the nasty germs…..

"By da way, what's up with dese fights of yours?" Jack asked.

I shrugged. "Gave Jackal a black eye and got in some trouble with some old 'acquaintances' from Queens."

"Spot told me he pulled ya out of it today." I shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Just as a heads up," Jack whispered, "Spot doesn't care so much for da 'damsel-in-distress' types. Dat's why he's getting so bored with his latest goil."

"Oh, like I care, Cowboy!" Jack laughed at me. "What, am I actively supposed to flirt with him or something?"

"You could," Jack said as he stood up to leave. "But you probably won't really need to. Yoah more interestin' den most of da goils in Brooklyn anyhow." Gee, thanks Cowboy.

For the rest of the party I just hung out at the bar. No need to go getting in trouble with anyone tonight. When it was time to go I said goodbye to Meda and found Sparrow. Pirate walked next to me the whole way back, making jokes for most of the time. It didn't seem to bother him that I was quiet for the most part. I was too tired to talk for the most part.

Back at the lodging house, Spot pulled me aside for a minute.

"Yoah gonna fix the mess you've got with Queens, right?" He was staring at me again with his serious face on, but my brain was shot from the day. I didn't bother to look away.

"I can't promise you anything, Spot." He just stood there with his arms crossed. I sighed. "Look, it's…complicated, alright?"

"You said you ran away."

"Yes," I murmured, thinking about it. I frowned at the wall. "That's why I can't promise anything. If they come around again, I'll leave." Spot nodded. I looked back up at him. He was still watching me, but in a different way. I glared at him.

"I'm not going to keel over and faint or anything," I snapped. Spot gave me one of his trademark smirks.

"Didn't think so," Spot said as he turned. "Yoah stronger than dat." He walked up the stairs and over to the boys' room.

_Yoah stronger than dat._ Now what in the heck does that mean?!

* * *

**So, who enjoyed the little "Spot POV" I threw in here? :D**

**Switchblade Conlon: I know, I take forever to update. Sorry!**

**XxxEFreakxxX : Thanks! Glad you are enjoying the story so far. I try to update as quickly as possible, but I know I suck at it. :\**

**Eavis: You are a wonderful person for all the reviews you are giving me, and your story rocks! I give you lots of love and a cookie!**

**cybale: I'm so glad you enjoy this story! . Unfortunately, my update schedule is rather unorganized.**

**If I missed anyone who reviewed, I'm sorry! I will try and reply to you in the next chapter if you leave me a note about this one! Thanks for all the adds to alerts/favorites! I will keep writing until this story is finished! :)**

**love,**

**~saya**


	8. River Brew

**I think this is the quickest I've updated in a while. two chapters in just over a week! Well, I had a lot of fun writing and I wanted to get you guys this chapter as quick as possible. :)**

**Also, I've been reading some pretty good fanfics, too. Eavis writes the wonderful _No More Random Goils!_ fic. If you haven't read it yet, you should. It is most excellent. Her character Jeans is very good, and if you like this fic you will probably like hers, too.**

**Disclaimer here about not owning anyone from the movie. All the others = mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 8 – River Brew**

I woke up the next morning slightly befuddled. I could remember having a dream about when I was little, and I could remember that there were other kids there, but I couldn't remember who.

While I sat and stared at the bunk above me, Cat swung her legs over to land on the floor with a rather un-Cat-like thud. I looked at her. She scowled, something Cat normally doesn't do, as she grabbed her clothes.

"Something wrong, Cat?" I asked hesitantly. Cat just shrugged.

"Colt's acting like an idiot again." I grinned.

"What'd he do? Go over to the Bronx without you?"

"No," she quipped. "He went over to Queens _without Blade_. And without telling me!" With that she stormed over to the sinks. I looked across the room to Sparks. Sparks looked at her and then shrugged at me.

"No sense in botherin' her 'bout it," Sparrow said from the bunk over. "Just let her cool off. Queens is just bein' _unfriendly_ again. Now get up, ya lazy bumma."

"Hey, I'm not a 'bumma,'" I said. "I'm just lazy." Sparrow grinned and walked over to the sinks after Cat. As I dressed Sparks came over to stand by me.

"So what's so bad about Colt not telling Cat that he went to Queens?" I asked her. My darn shoes were not being cooperative this morning. I wrestled my foot into the first one. "I mean, going without _Blade_, sure, I could see her getting mad about that. But about not telling her? He's a runner. Doesn't he go all over all the time?" _There! Got it!_ I stood up to see Sparks with a serious face on.

"It's not 'bout Blade so much," she said. "Colt can fight alright, for all dat he's a scrawny guy. She's just worried 'cuz Queens is tryin' ta make some trouble again. Dey think dat just because dere a large borough they can cause trouble." She sighed. "Look, can we just go an' eat? I want breakfast, and Sparrow's good at dealin' with Cat." I grinned.

"I love your sense of priorities." Sparks just grinned back as we walked out to join the rest of the newsies.

For most of the day I just sold my papes and then hung out by the docks. No sense in running straight back into trouble (again). I tried to show Pirate how to throw knives, but he couldn't get the hang of it, saying in the end he'd just throw his fists instead. I rolled my eyes at him.

I had the same dream again that night. I think it might be more appropriate to call it a flashback, though.

_I'm running through the streets, trying to find my way back to my house. It's day time, so I'm not too worried, but then again I'm a kid, and so long as it's not night I'm not scared of the streets that run through Brooklyn and Queens. I stop halfway through an alley, not sure whether to go left or right. There're some kids sitting on boxes to my right. One of them looks up at me._

_"Hey, you lost?" he asks. Mommy told me not to talk to strangers, so I just look at the ground and nod. "Where you live?"_

_I look at him sideways through my bangs as I answer, "Queens." He grins and shrugs his blond hair out of the way. He's clearly a street kid, as are the other two with him. One has brown hair and sits quietly next to the blond one._

_"Where ya live in Queens?" The last kid has mussed dark hair. His back stays turned to me most of the time as he walks up and down the alley, looking around._

_"Near Brooklyn. My house's right above a bakery." The blond boy thinks for a moment. Then he nudges the brunette next to him._

_"Hey, Sharp, you know where it is?" he asks him. Sharp sounds like a weird name to me, but then again I hadn't really known about the newsies. The boy Sharp looks at me and my clothes, clearly not from the streets. I blush and play with the skirt of my dress. It's purple._

_"I think so," Sharp finally says. "Snatch, you can take her. It's above your favorite place." The blond boy's face lights up. _

_"Oh, _dat_ place!" he exclaims, chuckling to himself. "Okay, sure. C'mon, I'll get ya home. Oi, you gonna keep nosin' around all day?" He yells back at the last boy. When he doesn't get an answer he just shrugs and comes over to me._

_"I'm Snatch," he says, holding out his hand. "Cuz I'm good at getting' stuff." He grins, proud at the name. I smile at him. We're probably the same age, but he's a head taller than me._

_"I'm Artemis," I say, shaking his hand. "Cuz I have to be stronger than other girls." We walk together and he takes me to the left. I wave back to Sharp. He waves back. The boy behind him looks over his shoulder briefly at us, bored. I quickly turn away from him._

_"Is that last boy nice?" I ask Snatch._

_"Eh, sure. He just isn't very good with people," Snatch laughs. I smile. He has a nice laugh. He manages to take me right to my home. I remember laughing and telling him to wait a moment. I run into the shop and go behind the counter._

_"Auntie, may I please have a cookie?" I ask the woman there. She's not really my aunt, but she's always acted like one. She smiles at me._

_"Artemis, you'll ruin your appetite!" she scolds me fondly. "Besides, didn't I already give you one?"_

_"It's not for me, Auntie," I try to explain. "There's a boy out there who took me home 'cuz I got lost again." I point to the window, where Snatch is still waiting patiently. Auntie looks at him and smiles. _

_"Well then, we had better give your little hero something good, shouldn't we?" She smiles and I nod at her. "I just made some muffins, let's give him one of those._

_"Okay!" I beam up at her. She carefully takes one out and wraps it in a handkerchief. "Thank you, Auntie!" I dash out the door._

_"Here you go! It's one of Auntie's muffins. Try it! There really good," I chirp, offering Snatch the treat. His eyes go wide as he carefully unwraps it._

_"Oh, wow, thanks!" he breathes._

_"You're welcome!" I smile again, happy I could give him something for his trouble. "Well, thanks for taking me home. Maybe I'll see you around sometime!" We wave to each other as he bites into the muffin and I go back through the shop and up the stairs._

_"Momma! I'm home!" I call out._

_"In here, Artemis!" I hear her call. I run through the rooms, skillfully avoiding the furniture. I find her sitting at the kitchen table with sewing in front of her. She's wearing her favorite color, purple, again. Her green eyes sparkle as she smiles at me, holding her arms open for me to run into. I jump up to sit with her._

_"Guess who I met today!" I chirp._

_"Who?"_

_"A boy!" I laugh. Mom laughs with me._

_"Oh, Artemis, you didn't!" I grin up at her._

_"Yup! And he brought me home!" I sit there with her the rest of the afternoon…_

I woke up the next morning, slightly confused as to why I'm having this dream. There's no one named Sharp or Snatch here in Brooklyn, and I don't even know who the last boy was, I never even learned his name. Two brunettes and a blond. Maybe they were actually part of Queens? I'd have to ask Colt, once Cat was done being mad at him.

* * *

The next few days past very similarly. Sparks informed me that I still wasn't very good at selling, even after a week in Manhattan and almost two in Brooklyn. Brooklyn was getting used to me, and I was more used to it. I still didn't know all of the alleys, but then again I doubted I'd really have to. If those guys showed up again, I'd show them a thing or two. Show a little steel, flash my knives at them a little.

Yeah, that'd happen.

I hadn't seen too much of Jackal around, either. We passed each other buying papers at the distribution center, but mostly it was just to glare at each other. At least his black eye was going away. Sometimes he'd put in a mean word or two, but I'd just try and give him a bored look. If he was planning anything, he certainly wasn't going to do it very soon.

It was about a week after Medda's party, and I was still having weird dreams. Some were the regular nonsense dreams, but some were more flashback-types. I woke up one morning after a particularly annoying one. I grumbled to myself the whole way to the distribution center. Turns out I wasn't the only one in a bad mood. Everyone was talking, some almost shouting.

"What da heck's goin' on heah?" Pirate asked. I shrugged. Unless it was really important, I could care less right now.

"Dey raised da price!" I heard Badger yell back. Swearing coursed up and down the line as the news was passed along. Well, hell! Pirate swore violently next to me.

"You get your name for your mouth, Pi-pi?" I asked. He glared at me.

"Don't call me dat right now, Arty, dis is serious. Are dey serious?!" Pirate ran a hand through his hair, aggravated. Sparks was in front of me, growling to herself. I could see Cat standing up near the front with Colt. She looked more concerned than angry at the moment. I saw Spot standing at the front, flipping through a pape. Everyone was getting riled up, upset about the price raise. Too bad we couldn't charge people on the street more. This was not helping my bad mood.

Spot reached into his pocket and pulled out his normal amount of money. Then he looked at it and pulled out an extra coin. Spot slammed the money down on the counter for his usual amount of papes. Most of the newsies quieted down after that. Spot stalked out, his face expressionless.

Everyone was upset, but nonetheless we all bought our papes and went out to sell. Some didn't buy as many as they normally did, some bought more. I sold with Cat that day, and we tried to sell as quickly as possible. Colt had run off somewhere, selling only half as many papes before leaving on his errand. When we finished we headed for the docks in silence. This was just too weird.

It seemed like nearly everyone was at the docks today. Only a few were selling the afternoon edition, mostly because they had to. Pirate, Cat, Sparks, Sparrow, and another boy named Quicksilver sat together, watching others swim.

"Well this just sucks," Sparks said moodily.

"Not getting' anywhere wit' Pilot?" Quicksilver asked. He was a mousey kind of guy, with brown hair and eyes, and a small face and frame. He was another one of Spot's runners. Sparks glared at him.

"No, ya dolt, I mean da price!" Pirate shifted around next to me. He kept fidgeting and watching Spot, who was currently hosting runners from other boroughs.

"Can't do anything 'bout it though, can we?" Pirate growled. "Damn Pulitzer's got all da cards." Cat glared at him.

"You've been angry for the past two days," she snapped. "Go cool yoah head in the water or somethin'." Pirate opened his mouth to retort.

"Will you two _shut up?!_" I hissed at them, my temper starting to fray. Pirate looked at me reproachfully. "Don't give me that look, and you really have been moody these past couple of days. Go swim or dunk your head at least."

"Fine," he said curtly. I ignored him as he began to strip for a swim. Quicksilver's eyes darted between the two of us. I caught him staring and he raised an eyebrow. I glared at him. He just shrugged.

As Pirate plunged into the doubtless icy water, Colt ran by, headed for Spot. Cat watched him with careful eyes. When he was done he came back to us and sat next to Cat.

"So?" she asked him. "Find out anything?"

"Yeah," he breathed. He held up a hand, motioning for us to give him a minute while he caught his breath. Colt had obviously been running hard that morning. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his black hair stuck to the back of his neck. Still, I was getting impatient for him to just spit out what he had found out. I tapped my fingers against the dock. Cat glared at me.

"Manhattan's goin' on strike," he said finally. We all started at him with shocked expressions.

"No," Sparks breathed. Quicksilver jumped up and ran over the Spot. A minute later he ran past us.

"If you don't believe me, just wait. Dere comin' over in a bit," Colt challenged. Cat rubbed his back sympathetically. I darted a look at Spot. The other runners had left, and he paced around before climbing up the tower-like structure at the back. He leaned against the edge, hand folded in front of his face.

Pirate climbed up the ladder next to us. "What's dis 'bout Jack's boys?" Colt filled him in. Pirate sat there, stunned. Stunned enough that he forgot to put his stupid clothes back on. Not like he wasn't good looking or anything, and he was definitely fit, but he was wearing on my nerves a bit at the moment.

"Can you put your pants on, at least?" I snapped at him. "You're gawking like a chicken." Pirate raised his eyebrows at me.

"Dat hoits," he said calmly. I snorted. "Besides, moah important things are happening. Look, here come Jack." Pirate pointed to the end of the dock. We all turned to look.

Jack was indeed there. Along with a tall kid with curly hair I didn't recognize, and a smaller black kid I recognized as Boots. Jack looked pretty serious, whereas the new boy looked like he was trying not to have a panic attack. I smirked.

Jackal pulled himself out of the water right in front of Jack. "Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" he sneered. Jack just gave him a look and kept walking. We scooted out of the way so they could walk by.

"Well if it isn't Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick," Spot drawled out. Unfortunately we couldn't hear Jack's response. Spot jumped down and the two spit shook. Spot said something to Boots, too, and completely ignored the last guy. Huh. Guess Spot didn't know him either.

Brooklynites started crowding around the end of the dock without getting too close. Most of them were guys, just standing around waiting.

Jack watched Spot carefully as the new kid talked to him. Looked like he said something Spot didn't exactly like, because Spot got up in his face. They left after a few minutes. Jack looked frustrated, like Spot hadn't told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

Colt got up and wandered over to Spot to find out what was going on. He came back _very_ quickly after Spot shot him a look.

"Spot too mad to talk to you?" I asked, grinning. Colt rolled his eyes.

"Why don't _you_ go talk to him?" he shot back. "See about dat temper of his." Colt warily eyed Spot, who was twirling his cane around again.

"Yeah, right."

"Actually, that might actually woik," Cat mused. She looked at me. Uh oh. I knew that look, it was the look Cat got on her face when she was thinking up some scheme.

"Uh huh," I muttered. "Yeah, cuz me talkin' to Spot is gonna work reeeal well."

"Cat's got a point dere, Artemis," Colt said. I could see Sparks was thinking it over as well. Pirate just watched me.

"Guys, I'm pretty sure I'm already in enough trouble with Spot," I argued. "I really don't need to piss him off any more and, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not in the best mood right now."

Cat just shrugged. "Nah, Spot's fine with you. An' da only way you'll piss him off right now is if you pick a fight with him like Jackal."

I looked at Sparks. She shrugged. "Yoah new, so Spot probably won't knock you ovah. And besides, we _really_ want ta know what's goin' on. So please?" The all looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Okay, okay, fine!" I threw my hands in the air. "But all of you are gonna owe me for this. Big time." I walked over to the end of the dock and ducked under a wooden beam. Spot shot me a "go away" look. Ohhhhh boy. I plopped myself down on the box Spot had sat on just moments before.

"So what did Jack want?" I asked, propping my chin on my hand. Spot shot me another look. "Look, you're not gonna scare me that easily, so either tell me to go away or answer my question," I snapped at him. Spot just kept twirling his cane. I rolled my eyes and leaned back on the box.

"New kid with 'em," I commented to myself. "Wonder who he was."

"A walkin' mouth," Spot said. I looked at him, but he was walking a circle and his back was to me. Okay, fine.

"He had pretty blue eyes," I mused. Spot snorted. "Hurt your feelings, Spot? And he was tall. Hmmm." I rolled my head back and looked at the little group still sitting there. Pirate was watching us carefully. I grinned.

"Somethin' funny, Artemis?" Spot asked. His voice was in that calm tone again, and his eyes were icy. Whatever it was Jack had asked for, it probably was wearing on Spot's temper. Or maybe I just was.

"Just Jack's face when he left here," I said. "I take it you didn't give him what he wanted?" Spot smirked.

"Yoah not getting' anywhere," he said. He stood a little ways across from me and folded his arms.

"That's just because you're being difficult," I snapped. "What'd Cowboy do, ask you to head the strike or something?" Spot gave me a measuring look.

"Not quite." I rolled my eyes at him.

"So, you don't want in," I guessed. "Why? Jack probably knows what he's doing. Maybe."

"Jacky-boy jumps in without thinkin'," Spot stated. "Why should I risk Brooklyn on somethin' that might just fall apart tomorrow?" The whole time Spot was talking his voice kept edging towards the icy calm tone he used when his patience was wearing out and his temper was getting closer to the end. Probably should have taken the hint, but whatever.

"I think Jack was serious, Spot."

Spot's eyes flashed. "An' you know him dat well, do ya?"

"No, but I saw his face when he left. He looked like he just got slammed by someone he thought he could really count on." Spot stalked forward two strides to stand in front of me. I stood up, refusing to let him glower over me. He still did, since he was about six inches taller than me. Spot's eyes were like ice, and his voice was just as cold.

"I don't know where yoah getting' yoah ideas," he said quietly. "An' I don't care where. But you had better remembah dat I'm in charge here. Youse don't have to protect dis whole borough. I do. So whatevah decisions I make, I make for Brooklyn." I stared up at Spot, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted so badly to punch his face in right now. I settled for stomping my foot.

"Will you _chill out_?!" I growled at him. "Good grief, a person tries to ask you simple questions, and you shut your mouth. They hafta provoke you to get an answer and you act like you're gonna shoot their head off with your slingshot or something! You…you…maniac!!"

Spot's eyes flickered and then he smirked. "What a tempah." I glared at him some more. Why couldn't I do the whole I'm-going-to-burn-you-with-my-gaze-thing? He turned and walked back across the platform.

"Go tell dem what they want ta know," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at everyone else. "Befoah someone else comes over heah an' tries what you just did." I fumed. _Stupid bipolar personality._ I stalked back to the group.

"So?" Colt asked. He also got a glare.

"So you owe me _huge_ now, ya bummer," I muttered. Colt just raised his eyebrows. I crossed my arms and stood there as the rest of them stood up. "Cowboy asked Spot to join the strike. Spot said no. And I pissed him off. Royally."

Cat looked at me. "Don't think so," she said.

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged. "And why ever not?"

"Cuz yoah not bleedin', you don't have any shinahs on yoah face, and you didn't get dumped in the water," was her answer. I snorted.

"No, but I did get another lecture, and some more evil eyes."

Pirate shrugged. "From Spot, dat ain't so bad." I rolled my eyes. Whatever.

We stood around talking about the strike. Was Manhattan serious? Were they really going to stay on strike? If Jack was heading it, and he kept Manhattan together, then maybe they would for a while.

I was standing near the edge of the dock with my back turned to the end where Spot's platform was. I heard someone walk up behind me and saw Pirate's eyes narrow at whoever it was. He opened his mouth to say something to whoever it was just as a hand shoved me square in the back towards the water. I saw Pirate reach out to grab me, but I was already headed for a splash.

Icy water surrounded me, filling my nose and mouth, choking the air out of me and sending a shock through my body. Didn't the river know it was _summer_?! I flailed around, trying to find the top. As my head broke through the water, my vision blurred. Someone splashed into the water behind me, but unless they were going to grab me and keep my head above the water, I was about to go under. I could feel an attack coming on as I swam for the ladder. I reached it and started to climb, shutting my eyes against the pain in my chest.

Someone's arm wrapped around my waist just as I blacked out…

…

…

…

"Hold her head over the edge."

"Dammit! I'm gonna kill him!"

"Yeah, yeah. Do that _after_ she wakes up, okay?"

Someone's hand was on my forehead. I coughed, choking up sludge from the river. Gross.

"Artemis? Artemis? Can ya hear me?" Pirate. Pirate had saved me. Oh. _Oh._ Right.

I answered him by throwing up the last of what had gone down my throat and groaning. Carefully Pirate turned me over and sat me up. I blinked my eyes. Pirate leaned over me, his blond hair dripping water. You'll have to forgive me for staring for a minute. He is rather good looking and he had his shirt off, and I'm only seventeen.

Cat was leaning towards me. "I've sent Sparks to get Emotions. She'll be down in a bit." I nodded vaguely. Emotions was the newsie here with the most medical knowledge. Not that she'd be able to help with my particular problem. I saw Spot standing a little ways behind Cat, and he looked positively _murderous._

I struggled and sat up as Pirate kept one hand behind my back. I pushed my hair out of my face. "So who pushed me?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but inside I was shaking. I wanted to pound whoever had pushed me into the ground.

"Jackal," Pirate gritted through clenched teeth. "Musta been why he hasn't done anything in a while. Guess Spot's little lesson didn't stick so good. So he pushed ya into the water."

"You left out the bit about how you punched him so hard that _he_ fell into the water," Pilot said. I looked up at him. Pilot nodded.

"Wow," I laughed. Then I moaned. Laughing had made my stomach hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said as Pirate started to question. He closed his mouth with a doubtful look. "No, really, I just need to sleep and I'll be better by tomorrow. Then I'll take Jackal out." I gave Pirate a weak grin as I stood up. I could see small girl with brown hair making her way through the docks, with Sparks close behind her. Emotions.

"Don't worry 'bout Jackal," Spot said calmly. "If his last lesson didn't stick, I'll make sure his next one will." He holstered his cane.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "You're going to take care of Jackal?"

"Yes." Spot's face was completely calm.

"Nuh-uh. No way. I've got dibs." I propped my fists on my sides as I stared at Spot. Emotions came up just then and gave us a questioning look.

Spot crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "I'm offering ta take care of Jackal foah you. An' yoah sayin' no."

"Yup," I said, popping the "p."

"You musta hit yoah head on something'," Spot said.

"I did not!"

"Artemis, can we just get you back to the lodge house?" Emotions asked before we could continue arguing.

"I think dat would be a good idea," Spot agreed. With that he tipped his hat and walked off. I glared at his back. Emotions gave me a smile and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"I know, he can get like that," she said. She was about my height with shoulder length hair and kind brown eyes. She had also been one of Spot's girls at one point. "Let's get you cleaned up."

We walked back to the lodging house with Cat, Sparks, Pirate and Pilot. The girls and I went into our room. As I washed myself clean of river gunk Cat took my clothes and dumped them in a tub filled with water and soap. After I was clean and my clothes were hung by the windows to dry, I fell onto my bunk and fell asleep.

* * *

**So, what did you guys think?**

**devilnangel: see? That wasn't the last chapter! And there are quite a few more to come.**

**Switchblade Conlon: New chappie! I'm getting faster at this writing business. **

**Eavis: Pirate was actually being not so bad here. He's really just a big goofball, most of the time. **

**whoneedssanity45, RandomRiter, newsieslover1223, and I'm-So-Lovable, thank you for adding this story to your favorites/alerts! ^_^**

**Mysticsnowraven, I'm not sure which story of mine you read, but thanks for adding me to your author alerts! (If you see this message.)**


	9. Hair Cuts, Karate Chops, and Judo Flips

**SHA-BLAM!!! Two chapters in two days! The reviews I got for the last chapter made me soooooo happy! I love all my lovely readers (even when they don't leave reviews)!!!! 3 There are thank yous to everyone who reviewed at the bottom. :)**

**So, it sounds like people were waiting for a nice little fight scene between Artemis and Jackal. Well. You shall not be disappointed (I hope). Plus, there's some more Spot interaction. I need to work on that. After all, this story is based around the bet Jack and Artemis made. Mwa ha haaaa.**

**Anyone from the movie = not mine. Everyone else = mine.**

**

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****Chapter 9 - Hair Cuts, Karate Chops, and Judo Flips**

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty."

"Emotions, give it up. The cat will come back when it feels like it."

"But I put some food out last night, an' it was gone dis morning."

I blinked an eye. Across the room Emotions was wandering around, checking under bunks – and waking a few newsies in the process – while looking for her cat. I shut my eyes and hoped to fall back to the lovely oblivion for a few more minutes.

Someone walked over and stood in front of Cat's and my bunk.

"Here, kitty, kitty," I heard Sparks tease Cat. The bunk squeaked and groaned as Cat moved around.

"Sparks, go 'way or I'll soak ya," Cat muttered.

"Time to get up kitty cat," Sparks said. There was a slapping sound followed by an 'ow!'

I opened my eyes again and looked at Sparks. She was rubbing her head where Cat had smacked her. I smirked. "Having fun, are we?" Sparks pouted. Cat landed quietly on the floor.

"It's what youse get for messin' around dis early," Cat said calmly. She pulled her clothes on as Sparks made a face.

I rolled to the other side and dropped to the floor, fishing for my shoes. Unhooking my necklaces from my bunk, I slipped them around my neck before dressing. In the washroom I surveyed my hair in a mirror. Hmm…….

When I first got thrown into an orphanage, my hair was actually kind of long. I, however, had to protest against the headmistress – of course – and took a pair of scissors to it. It had grown out some, since it now reaches my shoulders, but I badly needed a cut. I looked like birds had nested in it. All I could do right now was frown and drag a comb through it. My bangs fell into my eyes, so I blew air up at them. They just flopped down again. Time to visit Ben.

I grabbed my bag and shoved most of my knives into it, tucking one into my boot. I told Emotions that I wouldn't be selling today and took off for the restaurant. Abby's, the little bakery I had been meaning to try out since I arrived in Brooklyn, was open. The smell of their pastries called to me, so I stopped in. Figuring it would be a good idea to bribe Ben to cut my hair, I bought an extra turnover for him.

Spot was walking on the other side of the street. He saw me come out of the bakery and motioned me over. I trotted over, dodging two carriages and an irate old lady.

"What's up, Spot?" I asked warily. He easily balanced his papes on his shoulder while I juggled the piping hot pastries.

"Youse aren't sellin' dis morning?" he asked, his other hand in his pocket.

"No, I need a haircut. And that takes priority right now. That and maybe I'll run into Jackal and beat his head in," I considered. Spot just nodded.

"Come down to da docks later. Somethin' you'll want ta see," he said. I looked at him curiously. Spot just shrugged.

"Ooookay," I nodded. "I'll try and get down there by the time you guys finish selling." Spot nodded, tipped his hat, and walked on. I stared curiously at his back until he went around the corner. Something I'll want to see………well. We'll see about that.

By the time I reached Simple Tastes, the pastry had cooled enough that I wasn't tossing it from hand to hand anymore. I opened the back door and slipped in.

"Ben!" I called over to the blond head by the sinks. He turned and looked at me, so I held up the pastry then pointed back to the door. Ben nodded and held up two fingers. _Just give me two minutes, I'll be right out._

I sat in the alley for about two minutes, contemplating eating the turnover if Ben didn't show up soon.

"Hey, Artemis," he greeted me, wiping his hands on his apron. "Guessing you want a haircut? And that had better be for me."

I handed over the pastry. "Yup. Got scissors?" Ben pulled out a pair. "Excellent. Can you just make it even? I don't need to look pretty. Although it doesn't hurt that I am already naturally gorgeous." Ben snorted.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "Well, keep still Princess." As Ben moved around me and cut, we made small talk. He had the key to Brett's old place, and planned on moving in sometime next week. It was close to here and further away from Queens. He also had some more food for me, since Cook had made too much last night.

"I knew coming here was a good idea," I laughed.

"Yeah, you've got some pretty good timing. You want your bangs cut?"

"A little. Just enough so that I can see." Ben nodded and kept snipping. A minute later he finished and pulled out a small mirror.

"What do you think?" he asked. I turned my head back and forth. The ends where now nice and even, and my hair no longer looked like I had hacked at it with a blunt and rusty knife. The little bit of sun that came down picked up on the small flecks of red scattered throughout. It looked nice. I grinned.

"Thanks, Ben!" I chirped. "I'll come visit you once you move in and bring a pie." Ben laughed.

"And you'll come in through the roof?" he chortled.

"Maybe. I haven't gone on any 'missions' for a while, so I could use the practice," I replied. "Know any houses that could use a good breaking into?" Ben raised his eyebrows at me.

"You really think that's safe?" he asked, completely serious.

I shrugged. "Most of the places Brett had me go either had roof access, or they were rich. Roof access makes for an easy getaway, so long as the loot isn't too heavy. And the rich think that so long as they put in some lights at the front door with some guys and a heavy lock, it's all good. Soooo easy." Ben rolled his eyes.

"I'll ask Brett's old contacts, then," he said. "See who wants what."

"Make sure they can pay at least half up front," I warned. "I've had some people try and take the loot without payment. 'Course, I usually take a little something extra from the house for myself, but……" I shrugged again. It _had_ been a while since I had done some breaking and entering. And if Brooklyn joined the strike – if the strike was even still going – I was definitely going to need some extra money.

I strapped on my knives, another into my other boot, one on each arm, and tucked the last one into the back of my waistband, hidden. The only reason I could carry it like that was because my vest hid it. As I left, Ben told me to come back in a week to check for jobs. I waved and headed for the docks, twisting my hair up into my hat.

Now, what had Spot meant, "Something you'll want to see"? The only thing I wanted to see right now was some more food, or Jackal getting the snot beat out of him, preferably by me.

Wait. Spot wouldn't. He wouldn't dare. I had called dibs!

He would. He _so_ would fight Jackal before I get to take a crack at him myself. Spot must not know about calling dibs. In which case, I would educate him. _After_ beating Jackal _myself._

And that's another thing. What in the world is Jackal so mad about? Sure, I got him caught, but really? Maybe he was lacking in brain cells. I'd have to ask.

With my anger and irritation to fuel me, I started running for the docks. I swear, if Spot had already fought and beaten Jackal before I got there, I might just take Spot on myself. How good was he, anyway? I heard that he was a mean street fighter, and possibly one of the best in New York. Well, maybe if Spot was going to fight Jackal, I'd at least get to see how good Spot was. Maybe not, Jackal didn't really use his head when he fought. Plus, how was Spot going to get Jackal to come to the docks today? Grrrr. I sped up, eager to reach the water before everyone else.

Upon reaching the docks I looked around. Spot wasn't on his usual pier, standing in his tower or holding court with other newsies. Instead, he stood at the next one, where the end widened into a large square. Large enough for two people to fight on. He was talking to Colt. I passed Colt as I walked down to the end. Colt just grinned and clapped me on the shoulder as he passed, a grin on his face.

"So what's this about, Spot?" I asked. "You want me to watch the King of Brooklyn discipline one of his rowdy newsies?" Spot just smirked and took out his slingshot.

"You'll see," he said, taking a shooter out of his pocket. "You might want ta put dat somewhere." He pointed to my bag. I shrugged and dropped it just outside the square. Waiting for whatever was going to happen, I walked the edge of the pier. The water below did not look particularly inviting, but the wood was solid enough.

I walked back to stand next to Spot. He faced towards his customary place. I scooted out of the way. Several bottles were lined up on a beam. Spot carefully aimed, then fired two shots in rapid succession. Both hit their marks to shatter the bottles. I whistled.

"Could you show me how to do that?" I asked. Spot laughed.

"You? Shoot?" he chuckled. I blinked. Spot was laughing?

"What is so funny?" I quipped.

Spot snickered for another minute before answering. "Yoah face. Haven't you ever seen someone shoot befoah?"

"Yes," I said as haughtily as I could manage. "But you're really good at it." Spot just grinned and shook his head. He looked to the end of the dock.

"Remind me ta show you later, den," he said, his voice going cool and calm. Jackal was walking along the dock, Badger behind him. Now, Jackal's a big guy, but next to Badger he almost looked small. Badger's not just tall, he's built like a tank, and he watches people with his grey eyes.

"Gonna start the show now, Spot?" I asked quietly, so that my voice wouldn't carry. Spot just smirked.

"So, Jackal," Spot said amiably. I took a look at his face and inched away a little. His voice was calm, but his eyes looked like pure ice. "Youse been forgetting what it means to be part of Brooklyn?"

Jackal sneered. "I think dat _yoah_ da one who forgot, Spot. Brooklyn isn't supposed to be a bunch of sissies." He spat. Ewww. I wrinkled my nose. Spot just stood there and looked Jackal over. It was funny to note that Jackal couldn't meet Spot's eyes for very long, and that he hadn't come closer than the edge of the square, even though we stood in the middle.

"Right, you're just supposed to act like a bunch of idiots," I muttered under my breath. I saw the edge of Spot's mouth twitch. Jackal glared at me.

"You say something?" he growled.

"Yup," I said. "You think you got all these muscles, and you forget the most important one!" When Jackal just kept glaring at me, I tapped the side of my head. Somewhere along the dock someone laughed.

"Jackal," Spot said calmly before Jackal could do anything. "I think we need ta settle dis. Now."

Jackal gave a savage grin, his hands balling into fists. "You wanna fight me, Spot?" I twitched mentally. _I had called dibs here. Spot, you had better not be planning what I think you're planning._

Spot just smirked and looked at me. I met his blue eyes square on. _I_ wanted to fight Jackal, too.

"Nah," he said lazily. "Dat'd be a waste of my time. Why don't you an' Artemis fight first?" I know my face showed my surprise then. Really? He was going to let me fight with another Brooklynite? Right here, right now?

Cool!

"And I just got my hair done, too," I sighed, twirling a piece around my finger. Spot snickered. "Oh well, I guess I'll just have to get my hands dirty." I looked Jackal over.

Jackal looked at me, a confused expression on his face. That quickly changed to anger. "Me? Fight her?" I smiled sweetly at him. "I could take her out, easy!"

"Dat's not what I hoid!" Pirate yelled from the dock. I grinned as Jackal's face reddened.

Spot jerked his chin in Pirate's direction. "Want to prove him wrong?" His voice was calm, but I could see the glint in his eye. Spot was enjoying this.

"And what happens if I prove Pirate right?" I asked, curious. Spot grinned.

"If you win," he began. "Jackal will be the weakest newsie here." I rolled my eyes. I doubted that would be true, but I think Spot was just trying to make Jackal mad. Either way, I started stretching out my muscles. Spot just nodded at the two of us and stepped back to the edge.

"Anyone who bets on Jackal to win is going to lose their money!" I yelled at the group of newsies watching. I think most of the Brooklynites were there at the docks. I grinned. Oh, it was going to feel _so_ good to take him down in front of everybody.

Jackal and I circled each other, watching. I continued to loosen up, observing how Jackal moved. He looked like he had strong arms, probably from street fighting. He cracked his knuckles.

"If you're trying to scare me, you'll have to work harder," I told him. We stopped at opposite sides of the dock. I knew I had all my knives, but I really hoped it wouldn't come down to that. I didn't particularly care to draw blood if it could be avoided. Although, knowing the kind of fighter and person that Jackal was, he probably didn't expect me to be very strong. Maybe another kick to the crotch would help solve that little problem.

Jackal brought up his fists in front of his face. I put my arms up, palms open. Against this guy, straight out punches wouldn't be very effective. I'd have to get creative here. I grinned at the thought.

Probably thinking I was mocking him – which I'll admit, in the back of my mind, I was – Jackal charged. I bounced on the balls of my feet. He swung at my left, so I dodged right and got to his side. Jackal turned, this time going for a kick at my right. I grabbed his leg and twisted, sending him towards the ground. I guess he's had something like that pulled on him, because he put his hands out to slap the ground. He rolled and got back up. Maybe I'd draw this out a little.

"I'm gonna get you, you little pipsqueak," he growled.

"Sure, Jackal," I drawled. As he went for another punch, I took my right arm and pushed his arm to the side, using the momentum to bring me around to his back. I scissored my left leg up and out, hitting his leg in the big muscle in his thigh. Jackal stumbled a bit before turning to face me again. The adrenaline was pumping through my body now, as is always did in a fight. As he kept trying to land a hit, I kept dodging and kicking in the same place. Darn brute just wouldn't go down. After enough hits, most people will fall.

A plan hatched itself in my head.

Since Jackal obviously wasn't going to shut up unless I really made him taste defeat, I might as well do it. I felt another rush of adrenaline and grinned. Ooooh, but this was fun! Spot probably thought I was some kind of looney for grinning, but whatever. He said I could have this fight.

Now I dodged systematically. I pulled Jackal closer and closer to the edge of the docks, waiting for the right moment. At last I got a chance.

Jackal ran at me, trying for another punch to my face. I hit the deck – literally – and swept my left foot out and under his feet. I literally swept Jackal off of his feet. Ha! It had the desired effect: Jackal flew through the air and landed with a thud, his head just over the edge of the dock. Quick as I could, I drew out the knife at my back with my right hand. With my left, I grabbed Jackal's left arm and twisted it up behind him. I knelt with my left knee on his back, just to the side of his spine. My right foot pinned his other arm down and provided support for myself as I leaned over carefully. Using the flat of the blade, I held his head up just below his chin. Jackal went still.

"Do you give?" I asked, my voice cold.

Jackal waited a moment before answering carefully, "Yeah, I give." I tapped the bottom of his chin once with my blade to remind him that I _would_ hurt him if he asked for it. Only after putting it back in its sheath did I release his arm and stand up.

I walked over to Spot. "So, do I pass?" I grinned.

Spot smirked. "Yeah, you pass." I laughed. I wasn't really asking if I had actually passed being a Brooklynite or anything, but it was funny. Plus, it was nice that Spot said I did.

"You're being nice today," I said. I gave him a mock suspicious look. "You feeling sick?"

"Behind you," was Spot's answer. He shifted as I looked behind me. Jackal was livid, and had apparently decided to forget my threat from two seconds before, because he was running at us.

"Spot, move," I said. No time to think, just react. I turned my body so my feet where planted solidly, and my back to the water. I felt Spot back up, not relaxing his fighting stance. The adrenaline started pumping again.

When Jackal got close, I grabbed his right arm. Pivoting on my left foot, I pulled his arm along with mine. Using his own force and momentum against him, I pulled and flung him into the water. He landed with a very satisfying splash.

"I warned you!" I yelled at him when he surfaced, gasping.

"Very nice," Spot commented. "Very quick." I shrugged.

"I just reacted." Spot smirked and looked at me.

"Still want to know how to shoot?" he asked. My face light up like a light.

"Yeah!" Spot laughed and took out his slingshot.

We spent almost an hour out on the dock, just practicing aiming and loading. I shot a few, but could hardly hit anything I aimed at. Spot was patient the whole time, correcting my grip, or the way I aimed. I was actually enjoying his company, for once. (Well, okay, maybe I had before at some point. But when Spot aggravates you, you tend to forget.)

Maybe I wouldn't regret taking that bet with Jack.

Speaking of which, I have no clue how to flirt.

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**So who liked the fight scene? Knowing Artemis, she'll probably get into more trouble again. And it looks like she's getting along with Spot! Yay! Oh, and look at the questions below, please!**

**Switchblade Conlon: Yaaaaay! I worry about writing too much in one scene or not enough in another. Glad they're working well for you. Also, I think you asked some good questions so I'm going to repeate them here:**

**Is there going to be a point in the story in which**

**A) Jackal makes a serious attempt on Artemis's life? - Maybe. They'll probably fight some more, but Jackal isn't really trying to kill her. Yet.**

**B) Artemis and Spot or Pirate fall in love? - Well, Artemis has to make Spot fall for her. And who can resist Spot when he turns on the charm? ;) (Okay, maybe she can, because sometimes it gets on her nerves.) As for Artemis and Pirate.......that's coming up in another chapter or two.**

**Eavis: Doesn't Artemis just come up with the best descriptions? "Bi-polar maniac" indeed. XD And I'm glad you're liking Spot! He's tricky to write, but a lot of fun!**

**elleestJenn: Well, something has now happened with Jackal. Many somethings. Let's see if he takes the hint. **

**RandomRiter: I hope you liked the fight scene! Artemis isn't really the go-out-and-brawl type, but she does enjoy a good fight. More dreams will be coming up as more things happen to her. Keep reading! :D**

**If I get more lovely reviews, I will continue to update quickly! So send 'em in! :D**

**Loves,**

**~Saya**


	10. Bother it all

**HOLY MOLY TEN CHAPTERS??????? Wow. Hard to believe I've written this much. o_O**

**This chapter's a little bit slower than the past few, I think. Trying to set a good pace for the story here. Let me know how the pace is working for you guys! I don't want every chapter to go the same in terms of action and whatnot.**

**Oh, and if anyone, ANYONE, wants me to read their fic and review, just tell me! I'd be more than happy to! :)**

**Disclaimer: Artemis, Jackal, Cat, Pirate, Emotions, Sparks, etc etc fare mine. Everyone else from the movie belongs to Disney.**

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**Chapter 10 - Bother it all**

Flirt - _**verb (used without object)**_ to court triflingly or act amorously without serious intentions; play at love; coquet.

Artemis – _**noun (girl used with knives) **_screwed because she has no idea what the heck the above means.

Okay, that's not completely true. I know what flirting is, I'm pretty sure I've "flirted" with boys in the past. But I've never had to do it for a _bet._ Plus, I think any flirting I have done was subconscious, and not planned. Bugger.

The sun had already set as I walked back to the lodging house, deep in my meditative and extremely important thoughts. A few of us had gone out to eat at Ray's again to celebrate "the take down of Jackal." I think we just wanted a reason to do something so as not to think about Manhattan's strike. Someone had asked Spot if he wanted to come, but he had chosen to stick to the docks and hold court for the rest of the afternoon.

It was unusually quiet as I entered the lodging house. Where was everybody? The man who kept the books had already left, but usually there were some newsies about, eating dinner (if you could call that stuff food) in the nearby room, or just hanging around the door. I guess having to sell extra to make up the difference made everyone really tired. Ah, well. Life is hard sometimes.

I moseyed over into the mini kitchen area that split off from the dining area. (The Brooklyn lodging house is _huge._ In comparison to Manhattan's, anyway.) Maybe some nice tea would help calm me down. I didn't have adrenaline coursing through me anymore, but the thought of trying to win over Spot was making me a little bit…antsy. I set water to boil in the ancient and blackened kettle and leaned back on the counter.

The smell of burnt food, spices, smoke, and rotten food filled my nostrils as I leaned back on my elbows. Letting my head fall back, I closed my eyes and remembered how the afternoon had gone…

Jackal had climbed out the water, but we had just ignored him.

Spot had showed me how to shoot his slingshot…which had been a little bit weird, since his hands were really cold. Did that count as flirting? I mean, it was like we almost had our own world when Spot was teaching me. So maybe.

That boy is a mystery. How much did I really know about Spot, anyway? I knew he was a mean fighter (well, I had heard, anyway). He's the self-proclaimed "King" of Brooklyn, and seems to rightly hold the title. He can be annoying, aggravating, arrogant, frustrating, observant, stubborn, cold, and then flip it all on you and act like a human being.

Then there was the whole thing going on between him and Pirate…

"That's about ta boil."

I jerked and hit my ankle against the cupboard. Wincing, I looked to see who had broken me out of my reverie.

Spot.

He pointed to the kettle. "Youse gonna get dat? Or are ya going to let it make a bunch of noise?" His other hand held a beer bottle, already open.

"Oh, um, yeah," I stammered as the kettle started to screech. Spot was drinking? Well, it wasn't really surprising, I mean Pirate and Colt had had a drink the other night. But why was Spot drinking right now? And from the looks of it, he probably hadn't just started drinking two minutes ago.

Spot walked over and sat on the tiny table across from the counter as I rummaged around for a mug. As I poured the hot water and added tea leaves and honey, I thought about how I could ask about the beer without getting my head slammed.

Well, there's always the direct approach.

I turned around to face Spot, holding my tea for comfort. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his blond streaked hair. As he took another swig from the bottle, the light showed that it was half empty.

"Do you know a newsie named Sharp?" I blurted. Spot looked at me.

"Sharp?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe I was asking such a question.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Maybe in Queens?"

Spot thought for a minute. "Nah, nobody like dat 'round here."

"Oh, okay," I said, disappointed. I looked at my tea to hide my face. And here I thought maybe I could find one of the kids in my dreams.

"Dat's not what youse wanted to ask," Spot said. I peeked up at him through my bangs. His eyes watched me carefully. There was no emotion in them, just a faint curiosity. I tapped my mug and took another sip before asking.

"Why are you drinking?"

Spot barked a laugh. "You surprised?"

"Not really, no. Pirate and some others were drinking the other day. Everyone drinks. Just not always alcohol."

"Why do youse want ta know?" Spot asked, tilting his head to the side. His accent was coming out more. A funny quirk, but I still wasn't sure about the drinking.

I shrugged. "Just curious. It doesn't even look to be good beer, anyway." Spot smirked. He held out the bottle.

"Want ta try it?" he asked.

"I don't really drink alcohol, Spot," I told him calmly. He didn't seem _drunk_ exactly, more like just slightly moody and probably slightly intoxicated. I ran a finger around the edge and smelled the alcohol.

"_Definitely_ not the good kind," I said, licking it off my finger. Bleh.

Spot laughed again.

"So, what made youse think I would tell you why I'm drinkin'?" Spot watched me as I fiddled with my mug.

"I didn't," I replied honestly. "I was just hoping you would. And from the way you're not answering directly with a reason, makes me think it's gotta be pretty important." Spot took another sip and looked at me. I just shrugged and sipped my tea. Well, I certainly couldn't flirt with Spot right now. That'd be really awkward. I wonder if getting flirting tips from Spot would work? He is a rather playboy-boy like newsie. What had Jack called them? Oh, yeah. Conquests.

"How many guys have you gone with?" Spot asked. I blinked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a question." I rolled my eyes and hopped up on the counter.

"Um…maybe three? But I wouldn't really call it 'going with.' More like 'killing time,'" I said, thinking. Spot just kept watching me. Wait…

"So that's it?" I asked, disbelievingly. "The great King of Brooklyn is moping about getting dumped?" I snickered. Spot took another drink and ran his hand through his hair.

"It's not the goil," he muttered, hand half covering his face.

"But you did just get dumped," I prodded.

"Yesterday." I winced sympathetically.

"Ouch. Price hike, girls, and strike all in one day. Sucks to be you." Spot raised his eyebrows at me. "Sorry, sorry, not trying to be rude."

Spot laughed. "Yoah mouth is gonna get you in trouble." I grinned over my tea.

"It already has," I said, sipping. "Oh, and since we're speaking of boys – sort of – and trouble, I never did thank you for helping me the other day."

"Yeah, youse weren't lookin' so good," Spot said.

"I was trying to say thanks, Spot," I drawled at him. Finished with my drink, I plopped the mug in the sink and hopped down. "Well, _I'm_ tired. G'nite, Spot." Spot raised his drink in a mock "cheers."

Well, well, well. Who knew Spot could get bothered about that kind of thing. The strike, sure, but girls? Huh. Maybe it was just annoyance or boredom. Jack had said that he was getting bored again (hence me coming here, apparently).

Tomorrow would certainly be interesting.

**Spot POV**

After Artemis left, Spot rubbed his face with his hands. Being the King of Brooklyn wasn't usually this hard. Sure, there were newsies who were difficult to deal with, but Spot was good at that. Queens was also a constant annoyance, but that was normal and everyone dealt with it.

Speaking of Queens, who was that Artemis had asked about? "Sharp" or something?

And that was another thing: Artemis. Usually girls that joined Brooklyn fell into one of several categories: those strong enough to stay, those too weak and got kicked out, and those who caused trouble and therefore got kicked out. Usually a girl that fell into the last two was just curious about Spot, so he just sent them somewhere else. But this time…

Artemis was definitely strong enough to handle Brooklyn. Spot had seen that after he had Pilot and Quicksilver follow her for a few days. Most certainly Spot had seen that earlier when Artemis had flipped Jackal into the water. Spot smirked to himself. There had been some very nice moves there. Especially the finishing flip to the water. Newsies in Brooklyn needed good reflexes (of course, Spot's were the best).

Except there was the problem of stirring up trouble. Few newsies seemed to have the talent to find small pieces of drama and turn them into a bigger problem. First Jackal – probably not resolved, Jackal was an idiot – and then the people who lived in Queens. But for now, she was interesting enough to earn her stay in Brooklyn. Besides, where would Spot send her? Back to Manhattan and Jack? No way, that's be like losing or something.

"What do you want, Emotions?" Spot asked, not bothering to raise his head from his hands. Emotions gave a small laugh.

"You always catch me, Spot." Spot knew she was smiling from the way she talked. "Drinking?"

"Yeah." Spot looked up at the other newsie. Sometimes it was hard to believe that someone like Emotions was a newsie. Back at the lodging house, she had a tendency to change to a skirt and relaxed shirt.

"Mm," Emotions hummed in response. That had been one of the reasons Spot had like Emotions: she was quiet and easy to talk to. Although in the end they had made better friends than boyfriend/girlfriend. "Talkin' to Artemis help at all?"

Spot smirked. "Eavesdroppin' again?"

Emotions shrugged. "It's my job to know things. 'Sides, you taught me to."

"Yeah," Spot murmured, thinking about when they had been together. It had been more serious that his flings now, but it had still just been a relationship of convenience. They got along well, and hadn't really known about the whole "relationship stuff."

"Thinking about that again?" Emotions asked, guessing correctly. She turned and started cleaning up the sink.

"A little."

"We were, what, thirteen?"

"Something like that." Emotions smiled.

"Well, you've certainly taken a different approach to everything." They sat there together in comfortable silence for a while. Emotions new better than to try and berate Spot for drinking, and Spot knew Emotions wouldn't ask any questions he didn't want to answer.

"So Artemis has gone out with three guys. Maybe," Emotions mused, leaning on the counter. "Y'know, I can't really see her with many people. She seems like she's wear them out." She laughed.

Spot smirked over the idea of Artemis and a normal person. "Yeah, dat'd be a riot."

"So, you gonna go and find yourself a new conquest now?" Emotions asked. "I'm honestly curious. How many have you gone out with now? A hundred?" Spot rolled his eyes at Emotions's teasing.

"Dunno. They get boring fast."

"Well, maybe you should find yourself someone _not_ boring then, Spot." Emotions waved and left. Later as Spot threw away the empty bottle and headed up the stairs, he frowned. That had sounded like something someone else had told him. Who was it? Oh, right. Jacky-boy.

**Artemis POV**

_Dreaming again…_

_"So, what do you guys do?" I ask Snatch. We're sitting in a little alley on some crates. Sharp sits across from us. The third boy had skipped out._

_"We sell papes," Snatch chirps, munching on another muffin I managed to swipe. Sharp contemplates his, eating more slowly than us. "And do other things, too."_

_"Other things?"_

_"Well, I steal things," Snatch says proudly, eyes twinkling behind blond bangs. "Sharp draws maps and learns stuff."_

_We used to meet up like this, the three of us. Usually it was just by random happenstance. I'd be trying to get home again, get lost, and yet manage to find my way right to these guys. The third boy was sometimes there, sometimes not. Sometimes we'd plan to meet, and I'd sneak out with some food. We always met in the alley where I had first found them._

_"What does he do?" I asked. Since I never knew the last boy's name, I always just referred to him as "he" or "him."_

_"He runs around, learns the alleys, gets into fights, and other stuff," Sharp said. He shrugged. "He's our leader, but he's aiming for the top."_

_I never really understood what this "top" thing was. Probably the top of the newsies._

"So, you gonna sell today?" Sparks asks. I pull my cap on and shrug.

"Might as well. No point losing money."

"We're gonna lose money anyway, what with da price now," she grumbles.

Spot's already gone when we get to the distribution center, and newsies are starting to head out to their selling spots. After buying forty papes, I decide to head out for the area by the bakery.

"Extra, extra! Mayor's daughter falls ill!" I yell, selling two papes and walking along. The sun beats down as I try to rid myself of my last few papes. For some reason, every time that I get down to the last ten papes or so, everyone decides to stop buying.

"Train wreck on the rails!" I shout, hoping someone will buy a pape before my arm falls off from waving it about. I hear some giggles behind me.

A quick peek over my shoulder reveal three well-dressed young women around my age. The middle one appears to be the leader, as the other two are clinging to her arms like dead chickens on hooks. They titter, their hair neat and tidy beneath pretty hats.

Whatever.

I ignore them and walk on, spouting more half-truths to sell the last papes. As I sell the last one, I stand at a right angle to the girls, who have kept walking leisurely along. They chatter amongst themselves, and I can hear them.

"Oh, look! She _is_ a girl!" I roll my eyes internally at the first girl who speaks.

"How can you tell?" Tch. Probably a blond.

"Silly, look. You can see them. Although they're so small…" Oh, good grief.

"Maybe it's a boy, after all?" Heard that one before.

"No, no, she's most definitely a girl." I look to see the middle one speaking as she surveys my appearance from top to bottom. I suppose my worn look of boots, off-white shirt and vest don't suit her. Nor does the cap on my head as she narrows her eyes at it. Of course, _her_ brown curls are pinned beneath a white lady's hat. Ick.

If only they knew the silver I was carrying…

"So unfortunate," she says to her friends. The blond on her left giggles. The other one, another brunette, looks like she swallowed a lemon. Ugh. I hate mean girls. They're so…boring. And annoying.

"May I help you ladies?" I ask politely. The middle one looks me up and down.

"Oh, _we_'re not the ones that need helping, dear," she says smoothly. I smile and bite my tongue. I don't really care about jabs to my appearance, but it gets to you after a while.

"Are you sure?" I ask, mock concern covering my face. "Because I think the mental hospital just lost a few patients, and you three seem to fit _perfectly._"

"Yvette, did she just call us crazy?" the blonde one gasps.

I sweep my hat off with a bow. "Of course not, m'lady. I only implied it." I keep as straight a face as I can while they stare at me.

"Well, we know that it talks," says the other brunette. "Or rather, that it makes weird sounds."

"I make weird sounds?" I ask, widening my eyes. "Why, I had no idea. And here I thought I was speaking English." I give her my wide eyed stare, head slightly tilted to the side. Most people become unnerved rather quickly.

True to form, she fidgets and looks away.

Before any of us can say anything, someone behind me interrupts.

"Hello, ladies, what do we have heah?" Spot's voice floats over my shoulder. The effect he has is visible. The two on either side of Yvette blush, the blond one looking like she might start drooling. Yvette herself looks Spot over. I know that look. It's the look girls get when they see something they like, and it makes me gag.

"Hello, Spot," I say, glaring over my shoulder at him. He just looks at me for a second and smirks.

"Have you ladies bought a pape yet?" Spot asks, smoothly offering his last one to the middle girl. She coyly gives him a smile before taking it.

"How much is it?" she practically purrs. Euch.

"A penny, miss." Man, Spot is good. Yvette takes out a coin – obviously not a penny – and hands it to Spot. He takes it in such a way that their hands touch, and it's almost like flirting.

Spot gives them a bow. "Thank you for yoah business."

"Anytime," Yvette says, smiling.

As they flounce off together, the other two now _really_ hanging on the Yvette, I tell Spot, "You really shouldn't do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Make their brains go to mush. They're mush enough already." To my surprise, Spot laughs at my comment.

"Only you would get in trouble with every kind of person in Brooklyn," Spot says, giving me one of his trademark smirks.

"Hey! I wasn't in trouble. I was having fun," I quip. We fall into step as we head for Ray's. Spot snickers.

"Right." I huff and roll my eyes.

"But it looks like you just made yourself a new conquest." I snicker. Spot shrugs.

"Nah. Not interestin'."

"Oh, really?" I ask. "Surprise, surprise. So what would make her 'interesting'?" Spot just shrugs again.

At Ray's I zip through the door to get to my favorite table. Spot follows and sits across from me.

"Don't you have friends, Spot?" I ask.

"Sure," he replies. "And I need ta talk ta Colt. So I'm sittin' here." I shrug.

"Okay, whatever." He smirks at me again.

As the others trickle in, it's funny to see their faces as I face the door. Colt and Blade just walk over, as does Cat. Sparks hesitates for a second before carefully sitting next to me. Pirate was the funniest of all. When he saw Spot sitting on the end across from me, where he usually sits, I thought he's blow a fuse. Pirate frowned at Spot before pulling up another chair and sitting on the end. Boys.

About halfway through lunch, Quicksilver ran up to Spot. He was huffing and out of breath. Quicksilver was one of the newsies who normally ran around when the rest of us were eating. The fact that he had come back before the afternoon edition went out meant something.

He leans down and whispers in Spot's ear. Spot's eyes go all steely. He murmurs something back to Quicksilver, and Quicksilver darts away again. Spot stands up and faces the rest of the restaurant.

"Brooklyn!" he yells over the din of all of us. Everyone quiets down immediately. I keep munching quietly as Spot talks. "We're goin' over to Manhattan. Seems dat Jacky-boy's about ta get into some trouble. We're leaving _now._" Everyone scrambles to get up and move out the door. A few other newsies run in the direction of the docks and lodging house to round up anyone else.

"Spot, what's going on?" I ask, trotting to keep up. Spot's eyes are hard and fixed on where he's walking.

"Pulitzer's hired the crips to take of Manhattan," Spot says coldly. "Dey ain't gonna make it unless we get over dere, an' fast." With that I drop back to walk with Sparks. Things were about to get rough.

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**So, what did you guys think? Okay chapter? Review, review! If I get 10+ reviews on this chapter, then next week I will release _two_ chapters in one day! (And not short chapters either, but my normal length). So, even if you just stopped by or don't have a fanfic account, put in an anonamous review! :D**

**Lurves to everyone who has reviewed thus far. Getting them makes my day.**

**Eavis: You were the first to review the last chapter! Fast reading. Hope you enjoyed this one. ^_^**

**RandomRiter: Thanks, love. I did my best writing the fight scene, and it was so much fun. Glad you liked the ending. I think Spot was impressed, too. ;)**

**Switchblade Conlon: Glad the action is working well. More action is on the way! :D**

**elleestJenn: Yes, Jackal is a little bit lacking in the common sense, isn't he? And Artemis cut her hair with scissors, but it looked more like she had just hacked at it with a knife. Sorry if that was confusing. :)**

**XxxEFreakxxX: So glad you love it! The review made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. XD**

**Remember, if you want me to read your fic, send me a review!**

**~Saya**


	11. Strike! the bullies

**WOW!!! Got a lot more reviews, this past chapter! I guess using a bribe works? ;D Although for some reason this chappie was really hard to write. Maybe it was the pressure? Nah. **

**Well, it was close, but not quite. Very, very close! So! If any chapter should happen to get 10 or more reviews, I will do my best to release two chapters in one day the following week. Of course, placement exams are coming up, so we'll see how it goes.**

**typical past disclaimer here**

**Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, I know everyone was really excited for this scene!**

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**Ch 11 – Strike! (the bullies)**

Everyone was buzzing as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Never had the Bridge seemed so big to me as at that moment. It was like the barrier not only between us and Manhattan, but between being on strike and not being on strike. Was Spot going to cross the barrier? Buzz, buzz, buzz. All these thoughts went swirling around with everyone else's worries. I hate bees.

I had bugged Spot to tell me what was going on, only to be ignored and finally commanded to go walk with everyone else. Colt and Quicksilver had already sprinted over to Manhattan's distribution center to find out more. Hard to believe it was barely into the time when we normally eat lunch.

"Why do we have to rescue Manhattan?" Sparks grumbled next to me. Fiercely loyal as she was, everyone was confused.

"_Because_ it's 'Hattan," Emotions said. During the day, she dressed like the rest of us in boy's clothes. "Spot's good friends wit' Jack. Besides, do you really think dat they could make it out of the crips on their own?"

We all winced. While I had personally never had the pleasure of meeting "the Crips" – although I've met the Bulls more than once – I'd heard the horror stories. Common and not-so-common thugs, hired by whoever paid them to rough up others. Chains, batons, brass knuckles, rocks, whatever they could grab became a weapon. If you couldn't fight or run, then your knees were about to get broken, and possibly your neck. Yeah, I didn't think Manhattan would make it out safely. They were a good sort, but more along the lines of wise-guys than fighters.

Reaching the end of the Bridge, you could feel the tension rising in everyone. I also noticed the feeling of being in Brooklyn had disappeared. Manhattan was a much calmer borough. Why had I started here again?

The distribution center was empty, void of even Weasel. We all hovered around Spot, who stood in front of the gates, observing. I never really noticed, but the distribution center really is a dead end.

"Alright," Spot said after another minute. All our ears perked up. "I want all da shooters up on the roofs. Everyone else is to hide. No one is to interfere wit' Manhattan's strike until da crips show up. Goils, yoah gonna stay back until the worst is cleared up." Spot kept his voice low, but we all heard him.

Sparks and Cat grumbled a little about not getting in on so much of the action, but nonetheless went to find hiding places. Pilot led some of the shooters over the gate as the rest went to find ways up the other buildings.

"Hey, Spot," I said, tugging his shirt as he turned to hop the gate with the other shooters. He gave me a very serious look. "Can't I go up on the roof, too?"

"Can you shoot?" he asked calmly, although I could tell he was itching to get over the gate and hiden.

"No."

"Den you're stayin' with the rest of 'em."

"But then I don't get to do anything."

"I protect my goils, Artemis," Spot said, his voice cool. "I'm not lettin' the crips get anyone. Now get hidden." With that, he turned and scaled the gate, dropping down and quickly getting out of sight. Silently, I fumed to myself.

"Artemis, hey!" Pirate called as I neared the alley where they were hidden. I ducked in with them. Blade and Colt were there, along with Cat, Sparks, and another boy I didn't know so well. I think his name had something to do with knick-knacks?

"Tried to get in wit' da boys?" Blade asked, grinning.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Yes. So what?"

"Spot never lets his goils get to the front," Cat said, braiding her hair back. "Simple rule."

The rest of them were also preparing for a fight. Blade was spinning two knives around, one in each hand. Colt was loosening up his legs, stretching to one side and then the other. The boy – Gizmo? No. – was fiddling with something in his hands. Pirate watched as I wandered around the alley.

"What are you doin'?"

"Looking for a way up to the roof."

"Didn't Spot already tell you not to?"

"He told me I couldn't go with the _shooters_," I reasoned. "He never said not to go up on the roof. Besides, I'll have a better view, and I'll be out of the way. Now either help me find a ladder or give me a boost to the top of this crate." I pointed to the top of a five foot high crate stacked against the wall. Pirate sighed.

"You know, dis is Brooklyn, but you like fightin' a little bit much."

"It's not the _fighting_ I like," I argued as Pirate made a stirrup with hands. "It's the _action._ The adrenaline, if you will. I'm not some fight junkie. Hup!" With one easy lift, I was on top of the crate. Shimmying around, I stood up carefully to grab the window ledge above me. With some _very_ careful shimmying about, I managed to finally get myself on top of the flat roof. Mental note: next time, use gloves.

"Thanks, Pirate!" I called down.

Pirate grinned and gave me a mock salute. "Just don't fall, alright?" I waved and scrambled my way over to the opposite ledge. I couldn't see where the shooters or anyone else had gone. The shooters were probably even higher up. Where was Spot? He would probably make a dramatic entrance, the show off.

Weasel walked to the front of the window with his book. Where were the Manhattaners? Oh, there they were. You could hear them now, making a bunch of noise. They formed a human wall in front of the gate, only to scatter as the carriage of papes came thundering out. Poor horse.

The scabbers hesitated at the gates. I smirked. Sure, Manhattan wasn't the scariest or toughest borough, but when they were mad, look out!

"Alright. Everyone, remain calm," the walking-mouth said, looking at Jack as if for backup. None of them were wearing their normal selling clothes. Mostly just plain shirts and pants.

Jack looked back at the new kid. "Let's soak 'em for Crutchy!" he yelled. The Manhattaners yelled, running for the scabbers, who ran for the back. They pounded on the wooden doors, which opened to reveal the newsies' worst nightmare.

The Crips. Mean, nasty, cigar smoking, and armed with chains and batons.

Racetrack was yelling something, looking terrified. Ah, Race. You really should look where you're running beforehand. Oh, and get out of the way of the crips, you smart-mouth newsie!

Pandemonium ensued when I saw someone moving on the roofs around me. Several some ones, actually.

Brooklyn newsies stood on the roofs surrounding the distribution center. I spotted many slingshots out and ready. Then Spot made his move.

"Never fear, Brooklyn is heah," Spot proclaimed, jumping down onto a platform. Pilot hopped – much less dramatically – to his right, as another newsie appeared on Spot's left. The shooters aimed and shot as shouts of "Brooklyn!" went up from below. Gotta tell you, it's amazing, the way being part of this feels. Well, time for action. Spot had grabbed a hook that carried him down, landing on two of thugs. Heh, show off.

I don't remember exactly how I did it, but I got myself down to the ground, knives out and at the ready. One of the thugs saw me land. He came at me with a chain. Too bad for him, he didn't see my knives, and I know how to throw. One landed in the big muscle of his shoulder. The crip went down, blood starting to appear. No time to lose. I grabbed the blade out, wiped it on his shirt and went on to the next foe.

The adrenaline in a fight makes you notice a lot of things you wouldn't otherwise. I noticed Kid Blink made up for his blind side by fighting in a ring with others. Racetrack kicked a guy in his soft spot. Brooklynites pouring in from the gates. All the noise that would make you go deaf. And Jackal beating the life out of a crip about to attack a kid. Funny, the things you see, isn't it?

Someone got me on the side of the head, knocking my hat off. I stumbled, fell, and rolled. I turned to hit the jerk only to see that someone was already there, knocking them back with his cane. Spot knocked him to the ground and turned around.

"You alright?" he practically had to yell. He thrust a hand out to me and helped me up. I stumbled forward a bit, still off balance from the blow. Which meant I landed right up against Spot's chest, my other hand on his arm. His hand that held his cane was placed briefly between my shoulder blades. "Watch yourself," he said, his voice right next to my ear, before disappearing.

_Three words that became hard to say: I and…_ Why was a song running through my head?

I watched him go before turning back to the fight. No time to think about what happened, just dodge, land blows, receive a few, and keep moving.

At last the crips were pushed back. The newsies were all rejoicing, creating new kind of pandemonium.

"Hey, Artemis, you okay?" Pirate popped up. "You've got yoahself a pretty good ding there." Carefully he pushed my bangs back. Pirate's eyes are a very deep brown, in case you were wondering. And his blond hair has a way of flopping in his face. Just, you know, as a little f.y.i.

"I'm fine. There any blood?"

"A little. Shouldn't scar, though."

"Oh, good," I said weakly. "I've always worried about appearances."

Pirate snorted. "C'mon, I'm takin' you over heah." He scooped me up easily, despite my protests.

"Pirate! Someone will see!" I hissed.

"Who's ta care?" he asked, putting me down on a crate. "Now hold still." I winced as he wiped the blood away. The cut wasn't so bad, just a small one above my eyebrow. Cat showed up and she grinned at me.

"Got hoit again, Arty?" she asked.

I stuck my tongue out at her. "That's a horrible nick name of my nick name, and you know it!" She just grinned.

"Yeah, well, get used to it. We're spending the night here in 'Hattan," Cat said, looking around. "You know your way around here?" I nodded. "Good." She took off, no doubt to find Colt.

"So where's the food?" I asked, once Cat was out of earshot and Pirate was done cleaning off the blood. Pirate looked at me.

"I thought you just said you know yoah way around?"

I shrugged. "Maybe?" Pirate rolled his eyes.

"Yoah comin' with me," he said. I jumped up, ready for the food. Food! It's very important to eat after a fight. "How long did youse live here again?"

"A week, give or take a few days. What's the name of the restaurant again?"

"Tibby's. It's like Rays, only a little nicer. Smaller, but a little nicer." We kept up the random chatter until we got to the restaurant. Inside, Colt and Cat had of course already arrived and snagged a table. I slid in next to Cat, who was taking her braid out. Then the thought occurred to me.

"Wait," I said, slapping my hands down on the table. They all stared at me. "I'm now going to have to buy myself lunch, not just once today, but twice?!" Blank stares.

"We're not here to eat, Arty," Colt said. "We're here ta find out what Spot wants us ta do for tonight."

"Oh, good," I said meekly, blushing. Pirate snickered. "Shush, Pi-pi."

When Spot and Jack entered, all the newsies cheered. It was so loud and deafening that Sparrow and I covered our ears. Holy scha-moly but newsies are loud! Then everyone settled down as the two leaders sat down together. They were seated with Racetrack, the mouth - now known as David, but hey - and Pilot. All us of Brooklynites perked our ears while we faithfully awaited our fate.

I think Spot looked at me once, but then again I'm not sure. Plus, I'm not sure I could handle it if he did. I mean….eurm….well….

There was an adult who sat next to David. He had the polished, clean, edumacated look of a businessman. Mush said he was a reporter named Denton. Ahhhhh, lovely. Wait what? Okay?

"Brooklyn, you can take any of da open bunks," Jack called out. "Spot's got his usual bunk, so you can fight ovah da rest of 'em."

Mush laughed. "If you can find 'em!" A couple others laughed. Well, I'll be out in the alley again, thank you.

We all dispersed, mostly to hang out where the Manhattaners seemed to be spending time. It was back in front of the statue of Horace Greenly. That old guy on a chair. Race was beating a bunch of kids a poker, and trying to get some of the Brooklynites to play. I'm going to guess they're used to playing with Race, because I've played with some of them and they do _not_ like to lose.

"Hey, Arty! C'mere!" Racetrack yelled as we neared. He waved me over to where they were sitting.

"You serious Race? I can barely play!" I laughed. I could see the money signs gleaming in his eyes. Race grinned around his customary cigar.

"Aw, c'mon, I've never played against you!" I rolled my eyes and sat.

"Fine, but you better not be betting big." Racetrack shrugged. A win was a win.

Pirate joined, as did Kid Blink and Badger. I scooted a smidge closer to Pirate. Badger's a good guy, he's just really _huge_ and _slightly intimidating._

We played a few rounds, not really betting since I was rusty at the game. Race won most of the games, with Pirate winning one. Then we started playing for bets. It was small bets, only a penny for two rounds. Still, Racetrack kept winning.

"Alrigh' guys, final round," Race said. He has one heck of a poker face. He dealt out the five cards again. "Dis one's gonna be three cents for dis round. You in?" He looked around the circle. Mush had also joined and started fishing out the money. Badger chucked in his bits while Pirate stared at his cards for a minute. Then he shrugged and put in three cents.

"Artemis?" Racetrack asked, looking at me. "You in?"

I shrugged. "Sure," I said, putting in my bits. I hadn't even looked at my cards yet. We all looked at our cards, Mush putting one back and taking a new one. His poker face wasn't so great. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that by the small frown on his face, Mush's hand wasn't so good.

My cards confused me. I knew the names for hands. Flush, straight, Royal flush, doubles…now to try and remember exactly what they were, and which one won the most. Hmm. I put a card back and picked up a new one. Ooookay. The card gods must be playing with me. That, or the deck was stacked.

We had a bit of a crowd now as everyone had finished their food, and there wasn't much to do. Most of them stood behind Mush, looking at his hand and betting amongst themselves who would win. Race had strategically stationed himself with his back to the statue. Emotions sat down just behind me and Pirate. Someone stood behind me, but I didn't bother to check who. Actually, there were several someones. Grar.

Looking at my hand, I discarded another two cards, just to test my luck. _Come on, come on…_I pulled just the two cards I had honestly never thought to pull.

"Anyone backing' out?" Race asked. We all shook our heads. "Alrigh', put yoah hands down. Pirate, we're startin' with you." Pirate rolled his eyes and put down his hand: a pair of threes, a pair of Jacks, and an Ace. Not too bad.

"Badger?" He put down a three, four, five, and a pair of sevens. Race just nodded and went on.

"Mush?" Mush sighed and put down his hand: a pair of fours, a two, a Queen, and a ten.

"Alrigh' den. Artemis?" Racetrack looked at me. I frowned at my cards.

"Why don't you put yours down first?" I asked. Race smirked.

"Here dey are," he said, putting down a three and four of clubs, a five of hearts, a six of diamond, and a seven of spades. "Now what's yoah hand?" He grinned, confident he had won.

"I don't know how good it is," I said, shrugging. Then I put down my hand: ten, Jack, Queen, King, and an Ace, all of hearts. I heard some whistles as Race frowned at my hand.

"That bad?" I asked.

"Artemis, you just won," Badger laughed. He slapped me on the back, which nearly knocked me over. I grinned.

"Oh really?" I said, being evil.

"Dat's some luck," Pirate said. "All of hearts. Maybe you've got good luck with love?" He grinned mischievously at me. I shook my head.

"Not likely, my nickname's Artemis for a reason," I said. Pirate shrugged and stood up. I gathered up the bits and tucked them away. I'd return everyone their money later. With the strike going for who knows how long, everyone was going to need everything.

"Someone wanna give me a hand up?" I said, laughing. "My legs are asleep." Pirate was stretching out, himself.

"Here, give me yoah hand," said the person behind me. I think I levitated.

"Um, sure, Spot," I said, turning around. Spot had been standing there with Jack, watching. For the second time that day, I put my hand in Spot's. This time I noticed that it was cool.

"Merf." I stood up and shook my legs out. Jack was grinning.

"Nice last hand dere," he said. "Been a while since I've seen Race beat like dat." Spot stood smirking at Race, while I stood there and tried to pretend to be invisible. Which was slightly hard, because it's hard to ignore Jack or Spot already, and after today…Luckily Jack got distracted by someone else and left.

"How's yoah head?" Spot asked.

"Fine." I did my best to look him in the face. I settled for looking sometimes at his eyes and otherwise at his nose. It's a sarcastic nose. "Pirate cleaned the cut. I'll be good."

Spot nodded. "Make sure you keep it clean." I nodded.

"Sure, Spot."

"Youse know where you'll be later?" he asked unexpectedly.

"A-yup," I could say with confidence. "The small alley next to the lodge house."

"Is dat safe?" Spot asked a little sarcastically. I laughed.

"Spot, I've got knives. And if anyone thinks they can get me…well," I let it end there, grinning mischievously. Spot just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Blade called him over and he left.

"You look a little winded," Pirate said behind me. I squeaked. The bad thing about talking to Spot is, I tend to forget what's going on around me sometimes. "Forget to breathe?"

"No, I did not forget to breathe," I snapped, indignant. Really, forget to breathe just because I was talking to Spot!

"Good. I was getting' worried there." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"You don't have to worry about me," I said. "Besides, people worry too much."

"An' you don't worry enough," Pirate stated. "Or have you forgotten about Jackal? And what was that, passin' out in da water?" He crossed his arms and looked at me. I sighed and walked over to the statue, leaning against the base. We sat, Pirate still waiting for an answer.

Finally I said, "I do worry about Jackal, and other things," I started. "As for the water…let's just say I've got heart problems and leave it at that."

I showed Emotions some simple hand holds and grips to use against an attacker. Then Blade wanted to compare knives and throwing styles. Of course, we couldn't actually throw the blades anywhere. Sparks and I traded notes on jerks in Brooklyn and the best places to get food. Sparrow and Lark sang together, with Sparrow playing someone's guitar. Next to each other, they really do look like twins. Only Sparrow's got freckles and Lark keeps her hair shorter. The afternoon passed quickly, and soon enough we were dispersing to find dinner. Lark showed us a few places to get food while others went to the Lodging House to eat. Bleh. Someone needs to show the newsies how to cook.

Later, as everyone else was heading inside or finding somewhere outside to sleep, I crept into the little alley. There were still boxes and crates pilled up, which made for an acceptable bed. I leaned back and shut my eyes. Two seconds later someone knocked on the wall right above me. I squeaked and opened my eyes. Lark was looking at me.

"Y'know, dere's an empty bunk downstairs," she said. "Some of the girls have set up cots in the kitchen, too."

"Oh." She stared at me.

"I'm sayin' you don't need to sleep out here," she drawled. "Now get inside."

"Yes ma'am," I grinned, ducking around her and speeding for Manhattan's kitchen. No way was I sleeping in the same room as the boys. I don't care how comfortable the Manhattan girls are with it, I'm staying out, thanks.

Cat was reclining on a cot already, and Sparrow was asleep on another in the tiny kitchen. There were two more left. I quickly grabbed one and plopped down on it. The cots were mostly just extra mattresses, a lumpy pillow, and a thin blanket, but they worked.

I was out in seconds.

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**So, didja like it? I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. ;P Oh, and anyone else want me to read and review their fic(s)?**

**And now, for thanks!**

**Eavis: Thanks for the long review! I know I already replied to it, but I thought I'd do so again. Artemis is working on making Spot fall for her...maybe. I'm not so sure what she's doing myself.**

**Switchblade: I know I ended at a bad spot. It was intentional. ;) Hope you liked this chapter!**

**elleestJenn: Yup, the kitchen scene was good, I think. Maybe something like that will show up again?**

**RandomRiter: Did you like the scene? Artemis was trying to watch everyone do everything. XD**

**LucyofNarnia: Thanks for reading! I always love getting new readers!**

**Austra: Awww, thanks love! I do my best to write quality fanfiction. I'm so glad you think it's good! Maybe I should start a community for quality SpotxOC fics? And thanks for the +alert and favorite! :D**


	12. Small Matters

**Huzzah! Finally, another chapter! -hides from the incoming volley of objects thrown at me- *ahem* sorry for the wait. Busy busy things. But now, the summer is here!...Not sure what that will do to my update speed. :P**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

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**Chapter 12 - Small Matters**

"_Hey!_"

I jolted awake to find Sparrow's freckled face peering at me, her hands on her hips. I flattened myself against the cot. Hadn't this already happened? Oh, yeah, it had. On my first day in Brooklyn.

"Good morning?"

Sparrow snorted. "Morning? More like 'Good Afternoon' Arty. Youse been sleepin' da whole morning." She continued to observe me critically as I gazed around the room. Whoever else had been sleeping here had already gone, leaving behind rumpled and messy beds. I blinked blearily back up at Sparrow.

"Is this a bad thing?" I drawled.

"Yes," she snapped. "Everyone's gathering down at Tibby's again. We have ta get dere soon, or else Lark-"

"Sparrow! Artemis! Get yoahselves down to Tibby's, now!" Lark yelled from outside the kitchen.

"Or else Lark'll yell at us," Sparrow finished dryly. I grinned and rolled out of bed to get dressed. Sometimes it was still hard to believe that the two of them were twins.

At the diner everyone was already crowded around a group of tables where Jack was sitting. They were all buzzing and hopping around, trying to look at something on the table. I walked in to hear Spot's, "Where's me picture? Where's me picture?" I rolled my eyes and walked over to a table. Propping my head on my hand, I watched the chaos around the middle table and yawned. I need more sleep.

"Will you quite thinking' 'bout yoahself?" Jack told Spot. I grinned as Spot kept standing there at Jack's shoulder, looking up and down the pape. Wonder how many newsies can read what's not on the headlines. Hmm.

Pilot plopped himself down across from me. He looked tired.

"Late night?" I smirked. He just nodded and ordered some food. I looked around for Sparks. Since I didn't see her anywhere in the restaurant (and therefore couldn't hurt me for saying this), I leaned in to say to Pilot, "Hey, when Sparks comes in, ask her to sit next to you." Pilot looked confused. Boys!

"Ah, why?" he asked, giving me a bleary-eyed look. Insert roll of the eyes here.

"_Because,_" I said patiently, "It would make her happy. Plus, then I can talk to her easier if I can see her face. Okay?" Pilot just continued to give me a confused look until Sparks walked in. Just like a gentleman, he held the chair next to him out for her. Sparks blushed - awww, how cute! - before sitting down with a murmured "Thank you." When she looked at me I winked.

Turning my head back to the conversation, the boys were going on about what they'd get if they were famous.

"A porcelain tub wit' boilin' water," Spot said. A what what now?

"A Saturday night with da mayor's daughter," Kid Blink hooted. The boys laughed. There was a lot of noise, laughter and shouting for a minute before Jack piped up.

"So let's have some ideas," he said as they all crowded around the main table again. Someone passed a copy of the pape they had been looking at. I was drinking my water when I saw the picture and nearly snorted it out of my nose.

They all looked so _confused_. You could see it in the expressions on their faces. Half of them weren't even looking at the camera, and the ones that were looked like they barely had any idea that they were being photographed. Jack was the only one actually looking at the camera, while David looked like he was hopping around on one foot in pain. Spot was looking at the camera with a "what now?" expression on his face. I snickered and passed it over to Pirate, who had a similar reaction.

"So we should do something' dat's so big dat all of the other papers are gonna feel stupid if dey try an' ignore us," Jack was saying. Uh oh…Why do I have a bad feeling about this? The other boys chorused their agreement. "Like a rally, a newsie rally. With all the kids from all ovah New York. We'll make it da biggest, loudest, noisiest blow out dis town's evah seen."

"We'll send a message to the big boys," David said, grinning. Eur…and if they send you a message? Eh. Must be my paranoia speaking again. There was some more chatter before Spot piped up.

"I'll fight to that," Spot said. Merrr…..Can I just be in charge of pick pocketing and leaving? Although, a rally could be fun. A bunch of people, all in one place, making a bunch of noise. The possibilities…like getting stepped on? Nah. The possibilities of food, however, were probably good.

"To our man Denton!" the newsies toasted. I took the opportunity to zone out and think back to last night. Specifically, to my _dream_ from last night. Weird little buggers.

_Dream start_

_It had always been my weird talent to get lost in the few blocks I was allowed to wander on my own. It would probably always be my weird talent to get lost. Although, when you're a seven-year-old kid, and all you want is for it to be day and not night, and you're looking for your mother, the streets of Brooklyn are scary._

_Every time I got lost, I always managed to find Snatch or Sharp to lead me back home. They were usually together, and Snatch was always nice enough to lead me home while Sharp and the other boy waited for him. But that night, for some reason, I couldn't find them. I saw them once, but they were too far away and had disappeared by the time I reached the alley they went into. Still, I walked in, sure that I could find them if I just kept walking._

_Soon enough it was dark, dark enough that the street lamps were lit, and dark enough that the streets were full of dark faces. I cried quietly to myself as I kept walking, totally and completely lost. I kept looking down the alleys, hoping to find Snatch. Over to my right, someone - or something - moved between the boxes._

_It was the third boy, the one with the brownish hair and staring eyes. He appeared to take no notice of the street, focusing on something else._

_Desperate and tired of being alone, I ran over to him. He was smaller than Snatch, and smaller than Sharp, but he was still bigger than me. Upon reaching him I grabbed the edge of his shirt._

"_Hey!" he yelled, turning around with one hand raised. I flinched but kept holding on to the end of his shirt. "Oh, it's youse." He stood there and looked at me. With his back to the street lights, his face was in shadow. All I could make out was that the edges of his hair were light brown and he had an angled face. For a seven- or eight-year-old, he stood very straight. He took in my appearance much the same way, I suppose - pale blue dress with now dirtied edges, hair falling around my shoulders, and reddened eyes._

_He sighed. "Can't you find Snatch?"_

_I shook my head from side to side, sniffling._

"_Sharp?"_

_Again, more head shaking and sniffles._

_He sighed. "Alright, I'll take ya home. C'mon. And here, stop cryin'." He handed me an old and worn handkerchief. I took it and blew my nose, holding it in my right hand as I continued to maintain my death grip on his shirt with my left. After a few steps of walking like this, he turned around and I nearly crashed into him._

"_Look, I can't walk like dis if you keep holdin' on like dat," he said. Easily and carefully, he pulled his shirt out and took my hand in his. "Here. Now stick close." I gawped at him as we walked along in silence. Not quite as tightly, but still firmly, my hand stayed in his all the way back to my home._

_In front of the bakery, the boy kept holding my hand for a minute as he stared at the lights on in the little apartment above. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was a thin line. I got nervous, and fidgeted. Easily he let go of my hand and kept staring._

"_What's your name?" I asked, finally finding my voice. He turned his head to look at me for a minute. It was easy to see that the streets had made him harder than any other child. It was visible with Snatch and Sharp, too, but even more so with this boy. The streets had not been kind._

_Then he gave a small smile. You couldn't really call it a smirk, but it wasn't a happy smile either._

"_You can call me…"_

I stared at my plate of food, frowning. Why could I not remember that darn boy's name? I could remember the other two, I could remember the rest of that night. Why was this one little detail so elusive? The devil is most certainly in the details.

"Oi, Arty!" Pirate said, jerking me out of my reverie. "Brooklyn's goin' back soon. Didn't you hear?"

"Eurm, what now?" I blinked at him. Pirate rolled his eyes.

"Since it's gonna take a while to let everyone know 'bout da rally, we're goin' back to Brooklyn," Pirate said.

"Okay." Quickly, we all finished our food and headed out the door. Just as I started to walk outside, I reached around my throat. My hand froze, and Pirate nearly let go of the door on me.

"Artemis! What in the heck are you doin'?" he snapped. I looked at him blankly.

"My necklace is missing."

"No it's not, it's around yoah neck right dere. I can see the string," Pirate said, pointing.

"No, no no! Not this thing!" I said, yanking at the string with the little wooden cross. As important as Brett's carving was to me, I wouldn't be freaking out like this, probably. "My necklace that has the locket on it! Where the hell did it go?" I spun around and dashed to the table where we had been eating. Searching all of the plates, napkins, floor and chairs turned up nothing. No silver locket. Where else had I gone with it? It had stayed on through the fight yesterday. Then we had eaten, after which I had gone to the alley where Lark told me…

"The lodge house!" I yelled before dashing out the door and past Pirate, who had come back into the restaurant. I ignored his muffled protest and slammed the door open. Running through the hot midday sun, I sprinted past the group of newsies headed for the same direction. The whole time my eyes were pinned to the ground, looking for something shiny. Several boys - and probably some girls, too - yelled at me as I barged through the group. I looked up just in time to yank the door open to the lodge house and spring into the tiny kitchen, out of breath.

Inside the kitchen all the cots had disappeared, revealing what a small space we had occupied the previous night. Three people were in there. All of them appeared to be a little bit younger than me. One was a boy who leaned against the wall opposite me, his black hair flopping into his face. The other two were girls, one standing in the middle of the room, her brown hair tied back in a messy bun. She was glaring at the last girl, who leaned against the counter, hazel eyes lazily trained on what I was looking for: my locket.

"Hey!" I gasped out. "That's mine. Give it back." The three of them started, and the girl who held my necklace slipped it easily into her pocket before flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. She looked at me, glaring slightly.

"An' who are _you_?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"You just took my necklace. Can I have it back, please?" I tried to be polite, but my nerves were quickly becoming strained. The other two watched, eyes flicking back and forth between us.

"Prove dat it's yours," she taunted. She stuck her tongue out at me. Really, the girl couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen.

"I don't think dat's a good thing to say," the other girl started nervously. "Maybe you should-"

"Aw, be quiet!" the little thief said, always watching me with a cocky air. "I'se does what I'se wants ta!"

"What are you, thirteen?" I snapped. My breath was back, my patience was gone, and I was really getting tempted to just knock the kid out and take back what was mine. And possibly a few coins, too, just so she'd get the message.

"I'm _fifteen_ ya bummer," she said, glaring even more.

"Great. Well, thirteen, fifteen, I don't really care. Now will you just give me back my necklace?" I growled at her.

"What are ya talkin' about?" She said, shrugging with her hands in the air. "I don't got nothin' of yours." The two kids were still watching, the girl nervously, the boy looking like he was bored. They were pissing me off too, not helping me and just standing there watching.

"Ya know," the boy started in a lazy voice.

"Shaddup Smokes! I don't want ta hear nothin' from youse!" the girl yelled at him. My fingers started tapping against my sides, and I almost reached for a blade.

"If Smokes is tellin' youse somethin' dat you don't wanna hear, it must be somethin' important," Spot's voice drawled behind me. I whipped around to see him standing there, arms crossed, a lazy look on his face. How did he always sneak up on me like that? I moved into the room a step and Spot filled the gap in the door. "So what'd you do, Swiper?"

The girl stared at Spot, wide eyed and white faced. At the mention of her name, she reddened slightly before staring at the floor.

"I asked ya a question, Swipes, an' I expect an answer," Spot continued calmly. The other girl and Smokes fidgeted.

"She-" the other girl started.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Swiper yelled, glaring at Spot. Smokes continued to lazily watch her. Man, whatever this kid was made out of, it had to be tougher than _steel._

"Ribbon, Smokes, maybe youse want ta leave foah a minute so I can talk with Swiper?" Spot said it like a suggestion, but there was no question that they would do what he said. His blue-grey eyes flashed once and the two were scooting out the door as fast as they could. Spot lazily took out his cane, spun it around once, and then tapped in lightly on the floor. When he holstered it and looked back at Swiper, his gaze was anything but friendly.

I opened my mouth to tell Spot what she had done, but he cut me off.

"Don't say anything, Artemis," he said, steel and ice laced through his voice. "I want ta see if Swipes heah has the guts to lie ta me again." His eyes narrowed slightly in the other newsie's direction.

"Honest, Spot," Swiper said in a terse tone, "I didn't take anythin' from her."

"Then youse took something _of_ hers," Spot replied, catching onto her word play. Swiper reddened again and looked away.

"Maybe," she said carefully. "I dunno who's it is."

"Well maybe you should show me," Spot suggested. "Seein' as how you did take somethin'." Swiper winced as she realized what she had said.

"It's nuthin' special," she muttered, pulling the locket out of her pocket. She twirled it around by the chain. Then she started to pull it open. "I haven't even looked insi-"

"Don't you _dare_ try and open it," I yelled at her. Swiper's hazel eyes looked up in surprise, her fingers still at the edge of the locket. "Try an' open it, and I'll make you regret the day you learned to steal." I hissed the angry words at her while starting to reach behind for the knife I kept tucked at the waistband of the back of my pants.

Spot's hand lightly rested on my wrist, stopping me. "She's not worth it," he said quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I saw a hurt look cross the other girl's face. If Spot noticed, he didn't care. Looking back up at Swiper, Spot said, "Swiper, I've told youse multiple times before not ta mess with Brooklyn."

Swiper's eyes got huge then. "She's _Brooklyn?_" she gasped. "I thought she was one o' Cowboy's goils." Spot just gave her a level gaze. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "well shit" and tossed the necklace at me. I caught it, briefly checked the inside, and clasped it around my neck. Taking a chance, Swiper made a dash for the door. Grabbing her arm, Spot pulled her roughly to a stop.

"Yoah little tempah tantrums are ceasing to amuse me, Swiper," Spot said in a deadly calm voice. Swiper couldn't face Spot's angry gaze, instead staring at the floor. The poor girl looked like she wanted to disappear. "I might just have to pay a visit to Bullet an' tell him what you've been up to." Swiper looked up at Spot, horrified.

"No, don't do that!" she pleaded.

"Then you had better disappear from my sight foah a while. Do you understand me?" Spot asked. Swiper bit her lip and looked like she was tempted to start crying. Spot gave her arm a brief shake. "I said, _do you understand me?_" Swiper nodded. Spot let go of her arm and she took off running.

"Well," I started. Spot looked at me. "That was…pleasant."

Spot snorted. "She's from Harlem. Bullet's her leader. An' she's his goil." I whistled as we walked out of the house and back onto the streets, headed for Brooklyn.

"Still…wasn't that a little bit, I dunno, harsh?" I asked, looking sideways at Spot. He had that cold look in his eyes again.

"Swiper's had her warnings," he said. "If she can't remember, then I'll just have ta let Bullet know." I shook my head.

"No, I mean…," I hesitated. How to put this politely and not get my ass kicked again? "I mean…you know she likes you, right?" Spot stopped at stared at me for a second before bursting out into laughter.

"What?" I asked. "Was that really so funny?"

"Artemis, dat's old news," Spot said, serious again, although I could still see the smirk around his mouth. "Really old news."

"So then she told you?"

"'Bout three years ago."

"Huh. Well, you could still be nicer about it," I grumbled. "Girls don't really like to have their feelings laughed at, y'know. For someone who is famous for having so many girls, I would have thought that you'd know this by now." Spot gave me one of his warning looks.

"Artemis, I'm da leader of Brooklyn first and foremost," he told me.

"So then all the girls are just a distraction or something?" I asked. We were starting to walk across the bridge now. And why was this aggravating me so much?

"Maybe," Spot said, shrugging. "Some of them were." He said it easily, like it was the most common thing in the world. Well, it probably was for him anyway.

By now the end of the Brooklyn bridge was in sight. That's when I remembered that Ben would have a job for me. A very nice and distracting job that would require my full attention and anything less than that would land me in another orphanage. Goody!

"Hey, uh, Spot? I'm gonna go see my brother," I said, pointing in the direction opposite the lodge house and the docks. He nodded. "Alright, see everyone later then."

I scampered off, deep in thought. Obviously, winning Spot over was proving to be a challenged, but not extremely hard. I was pretty sure he didn't hate my guts, anyway. And I was still here as a Brooklynite, so that was a good thing. Of course, this is looking at things in a pessimistic way. The optimist would say that Spot had completely accepted me as a newsie and was even slightly interested in me. Hmm, maybe that was the realist talking. The optimist would probably say he was flirting with me once in a while. *Snort.* Yeah. Riiiight. Well, making him actually fall for me (or should I say "fall in love with me"?) was clearly going to take the whole summer. And for what? Could I honestly say that I would be happy being "Spot's girl" when the only reason I was "Spot's girl" was because of a stupid bet? I might be called "Artemis," but I do think about them before throwing myself into one. Usually. How could this kind of a relationship last?

Let's not go there right now.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, I smacked my hand to my forehead - and winced as I hit a bruise - as I remembered: _Ben doesn't work today!_

Arrrrgh! Well, back to the lodging house.

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**My, my. What a temper Artemis has. Such a diplomat. ;) Reactions? Remember, 10+ reviews gets two chapters in one day the following week! Also, who actually knows the whole Greek myths involving Artemis? I'm curious. Oh, and feel free to harass me and remind me to update faster. :P I could probably use it.**

**Eavis: I finally have a new chapter up! :D Thank you for always reviewing (and reminding me that I need to update when I review your fic). May I have some of your skills, please?**

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**elleestJenn: There is a scene much like the kitchen scene coming up! Look forward to it!**

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**Pyra Sanad: I know, I am evil. ;) But, new chappie is up! And I am working on the next! Oh, and hello to you, new reader!**

**news to the maxx: Hello new reader! Please keep reading and enjoying the fic! I try my best so that people will like reviewing, but it goes as it goes. -sigh- Maybe people will be nice and review this chapter?...**

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**Love,**

**Saya**


	13. Moonlight Waltz

**Kyaaa! Chapter 13!...I don't know why, but this chapter feels really important for some reason. Huh.**

**WEll, it's a super long chapter (kind of). Took me 15 pages to write. Hope you all will enjoy it! :D**

**[the usual witty disclaimer here]**

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**Chapter 13 - Moonlight Waltz**

_Stupid, stupid, stupid Artemis,_ I berated myself in my head. _Really now, to forget that your brother's not working today and just go ahead and _leave_ Spot on that note? Argh!_ I kept muttering things to myself as I burst through the door of the lodge house.

The first thing that greeted me was the noise. All the Brooklynites were crammed into the entrance, some spilling over onto the stairs or into the kitchen. The second thing that greeted me was the smell of alcohol. Clearly, someone - many someones - was drinking. The evidence lay scattered about, in the hands of many of the newsies, on steps, and on the counter where Spot was sitting, surrounded by Pilot and various other boys. I spotted Cat in the corner with Colt, who had his arms wrapped around her waist as they watched the pandemonium that was the focus of the room.

Sparks was sulking in the corner, so I went to join her. Together we sipped water and some soda someone had most likely stolen somewhere. Everyone around us was cheering at our success, never mind the fact that now we were officially part of the strike. Sparks and I laughed as Quicksilver juggled three balls and then proceeded to drop them on his head.

"Hey! Artemis!" Pirate yelled as he made his way through the crowd. People split easily around him, then refilled the space. It was like watching someone walk through water. When he reached us I could see he held an open bottle in one hand. He grinned, flipping his hair out of his face.

"You two should be celebratin', not standin' over heah by yoahselves," he said. "C'mon, join everybody!"

"Uh, Pirate, I don't think that's such a go-" I just stopped talking as Pirate effectively pulled me through the crowd. He stopped when we had reached the front. Now what was I supposed to do? I spied Emotions sitting on the steps to my left. I waved at her. She got a worried look on her face and glanced over to Spot.

"Here, Artemis, you want a drink?" Pirate asked. "I'll go getcha one."

"Ah, no thanks," I politely declined. Too late, he was already wandering off into the crowd towards the kitchen, leaving me alone at the front of the group, facing Spot. Can you say _oh bugger_? Because I can. Bugger, bugger, bugger. And, for good measure, bite me.

"What's da matter?" Spot asked lazily, leaning against the front counter. The man who ran the house had already gone home, and the counter had quickly turned into a bar as well as a giant seat. "Don't drink?"

"No, Spot, I don't drink," I said calmly. "Haven't I told you this before?"

Spot tilted his head back for a second, as if thinking. He kept a firm hold on the bottle in his right had, while he ran his left through his hair. "Maybe."

"Are you _drunk?_" I accused. Pirate was worming his way back now. As he came up beside me, Spot gave me another one of his trademark smirks. Except this one had a trace of something else in it. Anger? Malice? No, no. Sadness? Nope. It was something that was like a mix between the three, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Regret? Eh, closer, but not quite.

"No," Spot said in response to my question. "But I have been drinking." I rolled my eyes. Pirate handed me a plain brown bottle of something. When I gave him a look he explained.

"It's root beer," he said patiently. "I know you're not exactly fond of these kind of vices." I grinned and popped the top off.

"No, not these particular vices," I grinned. "Although some of the other ones…" Which reminded me: tomorrow Ben would be working, so I could get to work on the breaking and entering vice. Which reminded me of Swiper. Which I did not want to think about.

"So you can't drink." Spot said it matter of fact, like it was set in stone. He was watching carefully again, with that no-expression expression on his face again. I hate it when he gets like this. Makes me want to knock him down and rip that look off his face. _You're human too, Spot! Ya jerk!_ But of course I can't say that in front of a roomful of newsies.

"No…not exactly," I said carefully. "More like, y'know, I'd rather not. For health reasons."

"Health reasons." Again with the monotone and superior look! I'm going to smack this boy at some point, I swear.

"_Yes_. Health, you know? That thing that kind of keeps you alive?" I snapped.

"What's so bad about drinking?" Spot asked. I rolled my eyes.

"One, your brain looses function. The first thing to go is your judgment and reasoning." Yeah, and I sounded rational right now, spouting off in front of-_shut up!_ I told that part of my brain. _Spot's being a jerk, here's your chance to show him up!_ "Two, it affects your growth." I made a point of flicking my eyes from Pirate to Spot, who rolled his eyes.

"I'll let you know when dat becomes a problem," he drawled. "Next?"

"_Next_," I snapped, "is addiction. People get addicted to alcohol, which is a huge problem."

"That hasn't exactly become a problem yet."

"Has it?" Before Spot could continue I carried on. "And finally…" I bit my lip, not sure if I should go with my last reason, or just come up with a new one.

"Finally…?" Spot prodded me. I looked him square in the eye as I told him,

"And finally, you die." Pilot laughed as Spot and I stared at each other. Spot smirked slowly as Pilot started talking.

"Look, Artemis," he said, still chortling to himself. "I don't know where yoah gettin' yoah ideas, but dis isn't really a problem right now."

"I get my _facts_ from _books_, Pilot," I said tersely. "Sure, _you're_ not dead, but someone else probably is. So, no thanks."

"Maybe yoah just sayin' all dis because you can't handle it?" Pilot mused. I'm sure he didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but boy was I ever tempted to throw a book in his face. Preferably a large and heavy dictionary. Or maybe an encyclopedia.

"No, that's not why I'm-"

"So why don't you prove it?" Spot held up a half empty bottle and swirled it around. I swallowed.

"Are you guys being serious?" I asked.

"'Course we are," Spot said. I gritted my teeth. This would hurt. A lot. And not just in the morning either. But if they couldn't leave well enough alone…

_Brett, if heaven exists and you're in it - or even purgatory or hell, I don't care - please watch this and then kick their asses while they're asleep. Oh, yeah, and don't let me die either!_

I snatched the bottle from Spot's hand as I thought this. For once there was surprise clearly on his face. Everyone else around us was carrying on as I sniffed the opening. Ick, beer. And not any good stuff either. I swirled it around and thought about how much I could down before it got dangerous. Hell, what had I gotten myself into? Oh, right. A drinking contest. Stupid.

I lifted the edge to my lips and tilted my head back just a smidge before looking once again right into Spot's eyes and saying, "Hope you're ready to catch me, Spot. Cuz this isn't gonna be pretty." With that, I leaned my head back and brought the bottle to my lips. The beer burned its way down my throat and into my stomach. All that pretty nonsense you've heard about beer lighting a nice warm and cozy fire in your belly? All crap, don't believe it. About half of what was left in the bottle was gone before my head started pounding: the warning sign. I stopped and brought the bottle away from my mouth. Huh, I drank almost half a bottle. This would be interesting.

As my blood started feeling like it was on fire again, I awkwardly marched forward and slammed the bottle down next to Spot. Then, before he could do anything, I backed up again.

"Satisfied now, Spot?" I asked, my vision starting to blur at the edges. "Maybe you win this bet. Either way, I'm out." He had a weird expression on his face again, from what I could tell. Something between surprise and confusion and regret. Ha. Gotcha good.

G'night.

My heart throbbed and I coughed, a hoarse and raspy sound. It wasn't so bad as the last time I'd had a drink, but it still hurt. I groaned and grabbed my head as I started to loose my balance. I tripped backwards as two strong arms caught me.

"Hey, Pirate," I said weakly.

"Yoah goin' upstairs," he growled out. With one motion he scooped my up and carried me up the stairs. I don't know what everyone else was doing, because I was nearly passed out at that point.

Damn, I really did well this time, didn't I?

**Spot POV**

You wouldn't know it from watching his face, but Spot watched with mild horror as Artemis proceeded to down most of the remaining contents of the bottle before slamming it back on the counter. As she spoke again, half of Spot's mind registered what she was saying.

"Either way, I'm out." It was as she said this and proceeded to close her eyes with a half a grin on her face that it clicked in Spot's mind. _Another episode's about to hit._ As Artemis started coughing, Spot wanted to move, had to do something, and yet was frozen in place. What was this girl doing, pulling a stunt like that? And why was _he_ the one frozen in place?

Spot watched as Pirate easily scooped her up, glared at him, and proceeded to carry the now unconscious girl up the stairs towards the girls' room. After a minute Spot slipped up the stairs. He reached the top just as Pirate was walking out. Pirate had an expression on his face that told Spot everything he needed to know. One, that Artemis was asleep and - hopefully - okay. Two: that Pirate liked Artemis. A lot. So if anyone else was going to do something, they would have to fight damn hard. Pirate glared at Spot once he saw the other boy standing there.

"Nice move dere, Spot," he growled. "What were you tryin' ta pull back dere, anyway?" The taller boy's brown eyes were full of fury as they glared into Spot's own cool ones.

"Wasn't tryin' to pull anything, Pirate," Spot said calmly. He jerked his chin at the door. "She sleeping?"

"No thanks to you." Pirate crossed his arms. "Really, Spot, I don't get it. One minute yoah acting like she's a real person an' not just another goil who kills time, an' da next…da next yoah doin' stuff like this." Spot didn't have an answer. Truthfully, he wasn't always sure of what he was doing, either.

Pirate slammed his fist into the wall. "Dammit Spot!" he yelled. Because of all the noise downstairs, no one else heard him. "You've got to remember." He said this last piece more quietly.

"Remember what?"

Pirate swore and stalked off. Spot waited for him to go back down the stairs before slipping into the girls' room.

Luckily, Pirate had guessed correctly and placed Artemis on her bunk, and not someone else's. Spot quietly walked over to the middle bunk where she lay, her back to the door, asleep. Artemis's brown hair was swept back from her face, her green eyes closed in quiet sleep. The image was so different from the one of a few moments ago, when this same face had been twisted in pain. Hesitantly Spot reached out to brush back a small strand of hair that had fallen across her face, but then stopped. Did he really have the right to do that? Should he? Then Spot mentally chided himself. He was Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn. What was he so afraid about? It wasn't like Artemis would _break_ just because he touched her. Angry at himself, but still with careful and gentle movements, Spot brushed the strand back from her face. He stood there for a moment and stared, before turning and heading out the back door of the room.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot!_ Spot berated himself. _You _knew_ she wouldn't be able to handle it, but no, you had ta go an'…_He kept up the flow of mental yelling as he made his way to the docks. Maybe a nice, cold swim would help get his mind on straight. That's when he noticed the slim figure sitting on his "throne."

"Whadda ya want?" he growled out. The figure stood up and brushed back long, dark hair.

"Well, well, well," the girl laughed. "Is dat how my dear cousin greets me?" Blue eyes similar to Spot's own twinkled with mirth.

"Sher Khan, what are youse doing over here?"

Sher Khan shrugged and ran thin fingers through her hair again. "I got some time to myself, thought I'd come say hello."

"Doesn't Queens not like it when their goil goes off ta see Brooklyn?" Spot asked, smirking slightly. Sher Khan twiddled her fingers in his direction as she plopped down on a pile of crates. Carefully she spread her skirts around her.

"Well, they don't know I'm related to youse," she said thoughtfully. "Although if they ever find out - when they find out -" she amended carefully "there will definitely be some trouble." She smirked back at Spot and said, "So who dumped you this time?"

Spot rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly. If there was one annoying thing about his cousin - aside from the fact that they were the same age and practically the same height - it was her ability to see right through him. And, of course, the fact that she was currently going with Queens's second in command. But that was another story, and one that Spot still didn't fully understand.

"I didn't get dumped," Spot said sourly. "I just…messed up." With Sher Khan, it was better just to be up front about his problems. She nodded.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Spot sighed and sat down before launching into his tale. He started with the party, and how he had caught Jackal being a jerk to some small kid. At least, he had thought it was a kid until that kid had grabbed Jackal's wrist. How Jack Kelly had somehow convinced him to take this kid - Artemis - in to Brooklyn. How the girl had proven herself to be a good fighter, if not always a good newsie. Then how one time he had run into her when she was scared witless, and saved her. How it had irked him when it was Queens who was causing trouble, but at the same time it had made him mad that this girl was the one in trouble. How, when he was in a bad mood, she had come to ask about Cowboy and the strike, and he didn't get mad at her. How Pirate seemed to have some connection with Artemis. How it had made him so _mad_ when Jackal had pushed Artemis into the water, and they found out about her attacks. How Artemis had taken down Jackal. And then, when Artemis had asked - a simple question, really - about his girls, and he had made it sound like he didn't care about any of them. When, really, there had been a few that had been more than just something that took his mind off of running Brooklyn. And then, tonight, when Spot had challenged her to a drink…The girl was getting under Spot's skin, and he couldn't really figure out why, or whether or not he really minded.

"Well," Sher Khan said when he finished. "Sounds like you've got a lot ta deal with. But I don't think this girl hates you. All the same, you probably shouldn't push her too much farther with some of this." Sher Khan winked. "Anyway, who's comin' dis way now?" The two looked to the end of the docks, where a small figure was carefully picking its way down the path.

**Artemis POV**

I was pretty sure I was in my own bunk. And I was pretty sure that someone else was in the room, but I kept pretending I was asleep. There was the sound of the party continuing downstairs. A moment ago a loud bang on the wall had awoken me, and then I think I heard the door open. Ahhh! This was sounding creepy!

Cool fingers brushed back the piece of hair that had fallen across my face. I wanted to know who it was, if only so that I could say thank you for getting the pesky thing away from my nose! A moment later quiet - very quiet - footsteps headed for the back door. I cracked open my eyes to see Spot leaving.

As the door was shut quietly, I sat up on my bunk and nearly brained myself on Cat's bunk. Euch. I still felt horrible, so I walked to the sinks to splash some water on my face. A look in the mirror told me that most of my bruises were gone, and only a small cut was left on my ear, for some reason. With a sigh I vaguely wondered if Spot preferred his girls to be clean and tidy, without the traces of fights everywhere. I shook my head to dispel the thoughts. Maybe I should lie down for a few more minutes.

After a while it became clear that sitting around and thinking not-so-happy-thoughts was not going to help this situation. So I got up, left my hat and vest on the bunk, and went out after Spot.

The moonlight illuminated the steps that led down to the other side of the lodging house. The docks were in sight, just a little ways away.

Docks are confusing at night, especially when you don't know your way around to begin with, and then on top of that are slightly confused by alcohol. (Yes, yes, I'm a smart person.) Carefully I picked my way through and down to where I could see Spot and another person. Closer proximity revealed this person to be a tall-ish girl with long dark hair and light colored eyes in skirts. She waved a me before looking at Spot, who just gave her a look back.

"Sher Khan," she said, sticking her hand out. I gave it a firm shake. "Cousin to the dear Spot Conlon." I think my eyes bugged out of my head at this point.

"He has a _cousin_?" I gawped.

"Yup, believe it or not, he's got some family," she said lightly. "An' yoah Artemis?" I nodded. "Brooklyn's newest spitfire."

"What does that mean?"

"You've got some spark to ya," Sher Khan said easily. "Care to show me somethin' that would work well on an attacker?" She had an honestly curious look in her eyes, so I grinned. It was hard not to like someone who took an interest in the kind of fighting I did.

"Sure," I said. "I'll show you a throw. Get up and come here." As she walked over I explained that this worked best on a moving target, like I had with Jackal. She snickered.

"I wish I could have seen that," she laughed. I grinned and just kept explaining the proper grip, and how to throw. I showed her where she would grab using my arm, and mimed throwing someone to the ground. Just because we were on the topic of self defense, I pointed out a few vital points that were easy to get to. All the while, Spot watched, and I tried my best to ignore him.

"Well, it was nice ta meet you, Artemis," Sher Khan said. "Now, I've got ta go back to Queens. Be seeing you, Artemis, Spot." I waved as she left the docks.

Now I was left out here with Spot. Uh…what had I come out here for? Oh, right. I kept having bad thoughts, and for some reason thought that following Spot out here would be a good idea.

"So didja want something, Artemis?" He was good. Spot looked at me expectantly, arms folded across his chest, cane holstered.

"Um, maybe?" I hesitated, scratching my head. Spot gave me a look that made me shiver. "I mean, I _think_ I had a reason for coming out here…nah, I didn't. I just couldn't sleep, is all." Hesitantly I smiled at Spot. "Sorry?" Spot barked out a laugh.

"First my cousin, now you…" He gave another dry laugh. I sniffed.

"Well _excuse_ me for being obnoxious." Just to prove how obnoxious I could be, I plopped down on a pile of crates covered in fishnets. Then I stuck out my tongue at Spot Conlon. (I'm an idiot.)

"Do you ever think before you do something'?" Spot asked critically. I flinched. Something flickered in his eyes again, but it was gone before it could register in my mind.

"Sometimes I do," I said quietly. Then, just because I really wanted to take a shot at him, "But when people act like jerks all of a sudden, it kind of makes me lose my mind a little bit."

Nothing. There was nothing on Spot's face that indicated remorse, or that he felt sorry at all. He just sighed and walked to the edge of the dock, twirling his cane. Then he set it down on a nearby crate and started to take off his shirt.

"Yeah, well," he said, still facing the water. "Blame that on Pilot." I lost full control of my brain for about five seconds while it registered that Spot was now shirtless, because _damn_, he looked _good._ Like, super, super fit. I guess it's because being the King of Brooklyn requires him to be really in shape or something, because….because…..okay, time to snap out of it. I slapped myself mentally.

"Uh-uh, you don't get to pass the blame this time," I said in what I hoped was a strong voice. Merrr, Artemis, don't lose your brain…okay yes he's hot but still!

By now, Spot was only wearing those weird long john pant things. The rest of his articles of clothing - shirt, pants, shoes, socks, etc - were lying on a nearby crate. Mental note: Spot is not that self-conscious. He just looked over his shoulder at me for a second, in which I could clearly see all of the muscles in his back standing out, before taking a breath and diving into the water. I squeaked and ran to the edge.

"Spot?"

The noise of splashes a few feet out from where he had dove in answered my question. Spot swam out into the river before turning around and coming back. He didn't stop and get out at the ladder, but instead swam between the two piers. I sat and watched him move easily through the water. Out here, like this in the moonlight, he looked so much more peaceful. It was like Spot was in his own little world. Whatever it was, I didn't want to interrupt it.

After a few more laps up and down, Spot came to the ladder and climbed out. This…was not helping me keep my focus. Seriously, climbing out of the water like that, with his blond-streaked hair dripping droplets of water onto the dock, it made me think of those Greek sculptures portraying young male gods. Okay, another mental slap for Artemis. Spot slicked back his hair and rummaged around in a box. I did my best to ignore that fact that he was wearing only his undergarments as he pulled out a raggedy old towel. After drying himself for the most part, Spot pulled his pants back on - thank goodness! - and sat.

"So, you gonna get to whatevah it was, or are ya gonna sit dere starin'?" Spot asked. I blushed and looked away.

"Maybe," I said. When I looked sideways at him, Spot gave me one of his slow smirks, but this time with nothing else in it except amusement. I kicked my legs back and forth in front of the crate. Maybe it was because it was night and dark, but I wanted to ask Spot some questions. What did I really know about him? That he's a mean fighter, sure. That he can shoot his slingshot really well. And that he can flip his personality. Oh, and that girls kill time. Great.

"Was there ever a girl you really cared about?" I asked suddenly. Spot raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of danger in his eyes.

"Interesting question," he said dryly.

"Don't be a smartass, just answer it." Spot sighed.

"To answer yoah question," he said dramatically, "yes, there was."

"And how long ago was that?" Now I was really curious.

Spot thought for a minute. "A while."

"Why was she special?"

A shrug.

"She still in Brooklyn?"

"Yeah. You know her, actually." I gaped.

"What? Who?" Spot smirked again.

"Her name's Caroline," he said. Then, before I could ask - because I don't remember knowing someone here named Caroline - Spot continued, "You know her as Emotions."

My. Mind. Is. Blown.

I mean, I knew that they had been together at one point a couple years ago, but…but…but…

I just sat there and gaped and thought about it and tried to say something and just gaped some more. I'm sure Spot thought I looked like a fish, opening and closing my mouth.

"Are we done with the questions now?" My mouth snapped shut for a second before I blurted out,

"Do you know how to dance?"

Blank look. No confusion, just blank. Staring. No I am not on anything yes there is a rational explanation. Geeze.

"Excuse me?" Spot was clearly fighting to keep a level and rational tone.

"Do you know how to dance?" I repeated. Spot gave me a "excuse-me-do-you-_think_-I-know-how-to-_dance_-you-crazy-girl" look that very clearly told me that no, Spot Conlon does not know how to dance. Tsk.

"Oh, come on, you should!" Another look. It wasn't until I actually stood up and gestured for Spot to do the same that he saw that I was serious.

"Put your shirt back on, I'm gonna show you," I commanded. I didn't think he would do it, but Spot did stand up and pull his shirt on. Although that was as far as he went, because next he just stood there and stared me down. "What?"

"An' you know how ta dance?" He said it more like a statement than a question. A very sarcastic statement that was full of doubt.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I said as haughtily as I could. "I'll have you know that before I ran away I took dance lessons. And I was quite good, thank you very much." I put as much fake sass into the statement as I could muster. The edge of Spot's mouth twitched.

"Right."

"Well you're not gonna learn by just standing there. C'mere." I gestured for Spot to step closer, which he did, resigned. "Here." I took his right hand and placed it around my waist, and held his left in my right. My left hand rested lightly on his arm, and I noticed his hands were cool.

"What are we doin'?" Spot asked dryly. I gave him my fiercest look.

"You won't win too many more girls if you can't dance," I said resolutely, never mind the fact that we both clearly knew otherwise. Spot gave a reckless, daredevil grin that almost made me stop breathing for a second, and I was suddenly very aware of how close we were standing.

"Well, then," he said, and I started breathing normally, "Lead on." I nodded.

"Right, well, here's how you'll step." As I lead Spot through the basic steps of the waltz, it was funny to think how we'd started out. Frankly, Spot had been more than a little bit intimidating, and still was. Sometimes. But it was interesting to see all these different aspects of him. I laughed when Spot took a misstep and we almost crashed into a pile of crates. The opening measures of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ started playing in my head.

_One, two, three. One, two three. One, tw-_

"So then how many guys have _you_ gone with?" Spot asked, shaking me out of my reverie. Now he was leading rather well, and I didn't have to think about my feet. Just how I was going to answer.

"Three," I answered truthfully. "And they all ran away." Spot snickered. I stuck out my tongue at him again.

"How many girls have you been with? Hmm?" Spot shrugged.

"Are you afraid of anythin'?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. It was funny for one because Spot was asking me this question, and for two because I felt safe where I was. For some reason, dancing with Spot like this felt alright.

"Um, the water, getting trampled by elephants, bee stings, people who giggle too much, and getting trampled by an elephant," I said. Spot laughed.

"Elephants."

"Hey, it could happen," I said seriously. "You have to be prepared for this kind of thing." Spot shook his head, then looked serious.

"I meant more along da lines of…," he trailed off for a second and looked at something above my head. "More along da lines of when you black out." Oh. _Oh._

"Yeah, I guess," I muttered, not looking at him. "But it's no big deal, really. I'm not gonna _die_ or anything. I just can't over exert myself. And do my best not to get any random shocks, like with Jackal and the water." Spot's eyes got a dangerous look in them again.

"Really, ya should've let me soak him," Spot said easily, like he was talking about the weather, or commenting that it was dark. I shivered a bit.

"Next question," I said lamely, trying to dodge.

"Was Cowboy really telling da truth? Or did you just hate Manhattan dat much?" Spot asked. If he hadn't been leading, I would have stopped.

"Apparently some of the Manhattaners didn't like me so much," I said casually. "Why? Should I have gone to the Bronx or something?" Spot snorted.

"Da Bronx are for weaklings and those who yell too much," he said.

"Oh, good to know I'm not a weak-_yeep_!" I squeaked as I tripped backwards. Spot caught me with one arm, around my waist. My hands had automatically flown up, and were now grabbing at his shirt just below his collar bones. I was acutely aware that this would probably be a kind of romantic pose, but I was hovering above the water.

Spot flashed another evil grin. He was clearly holding me up easily with his left arm, leaning over slightly.

"Spot Conlon don't you _dare_ drop me!" I squeaked. I had meant for it to be an imposing command, but apparently my vocal chords had other plans.

"So you want me to save you?" Spot asked. I glared at him, still not letting go of his shirt. It didn't help that he had only pulled it on and not buttoned it up. Either I stared at him in the face or at his chest. Sigh. Such a hard decision.

"If you have to think about it," I started. Spot face changed again, and I couldn't continue what I was going to say. "Spot?"

Spot cocked his head to the side a little bit, like he was thinking. Moonlight reflected back in his eyes, which had gone all careful again. Spot's eyes kept flicking back and forth between mine, like he was looking for something. Then they traveled around my face. We stood like this for a moment before Spot spoke.

"I think," he said, his voice quiet and a shade deeper, "dat I want to try something."

"Try what?" I asked, wary.

Spot just gave another daredevil grin before pulling me up. As I came forward, my hands were still on his chest, but now with my palms flat out. Spot just kept watching my face as I was finally standing again. He seemed to hesitate for a second before making up his mind. And then he brought his lips to mine.

My eyes flew wide open and my hands tried to push against his chest, but couldn't find the will to do it as first panic flew through my mind. I wasn't being held in an embrace, but Spot's arm was still around my waist, and the other carefully traced my cheek before holding me at the back of my head. He wasn't being harsh, just firm and a little gentle. Then it registered what was going on.

_Spot was kissing me_.

Of their own accord my eyes fluttered shut as I relaxed a little bit and enjoyed the kiss. Spot hesitated for another second before he deepened the kiss…and my mind couldn't find a rational argument against this. Spot is a really good kisser. Small sparks, like embers, flicked through my system and I felt myself grow warm. Amid all of this, I could smell Spot's unique scent of the water he had just swam in, and spices, and trace bits of alcohol and something else I couldn't really identify.

This probably only lasted a short moment before Spot was stepping back and letting go of me completely. He gave a hoarse laugh, and I was glad that I wasn't the only one out of breath.

"That wasn't so bad," Spot said. Then he looked at me carefully, gauging my reaction.

"Wha-?" was all I could come up with. Did he really just…? I stared at him, confused. "Was that serious?" Spot shrugged and took a small step closer. I didn't move towards him or try and push him away. Spot's eyes were softer now than I was used to seeing them, but there was still something careful in them. Something holding him back. Carefully he traced around the edge of my face, pushing back my hair. His hands had calluses even on the fingertips, but his lips had been soft. I bet his hair was, too. So I reached up in return and brushed back part of his bangs.

"Maybe," he said finally when I brought my hand back down. Now he was playing with a strand of my hair, looking at it instead of me. "I don't…really know." Then he gave another quiet laugh. I stared at his eyes willing him to look at me.

"Can I ask you something'?" he asked, finally looking at me again.

"You just did," I quipped. Spot smirked.

"What's yoah real name?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Of all the questions, you pick that one."

"C'mon, answer it," Spot said playfully, hands in his pockets. I hedged, fidgeting. Spot just took my hands and started leading me slowly around in a slow waltz.

"Artemis," I said finally. Seeing the look he gave me, I clarified. "No really, my real name's Artemis. Artemis Blake. It's also my nickname. My brother came up with it before he knew my real name was also Artemis. It stuck." Spot raised his eyebrows.

"How could yoah brother not know yoah real name?" he asked dryly. I shrugged.

"Like I said, I ran away from home. My mom gave me this name in protest to my dad, who wanted to either name me after her - which I got anyway -, or name me Christina." I wrinkled my nose at the thought.

"Christina." Spot said this like it was a bad joke (and frankly, it would be).

"Yup."

"Huh. So your mom's name's your middle one then?" he asked. I glared at him, his eyes full of mischief.

"Yeah…"

"So what is it?" I rolled my eyes and then stared past Spot's shoulder.

"It's…" I hesitated, not quite willing to divulge this tidbit of information, yet I felt like I should. I frowned at myself. It's not like it's a big deal, it's just a _name_ for cryin' out loud. All of a sudden, Spot spun me out and brought me back to him in a twirl. As I came back and replaced my hand in his, I looked up at him and said quietly, "It's Lianne."

"Lianne," Spot mulled it over in his mind. I watched the gears turn in his head as he watched me. Then he grinned. "Does anyone ever called you that?" Insert serious eye roll here.

"No," I said. "Why would they?" Spot shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "But it fits you, I guess."

"Fine then, what's _your_ real name?" I challenged. Spot visibly balked at answering the question. "Aw, c'mon, I answered your questions." Spot glared, and we stopped dancing.

"Daniel," he spat out tersely, his eyes flashing with anger and annoyance. "Jonathan Daniel Conlon. The IV. You happy now? An' no one evah calls me dat or I'll soak 'em."

"Woah, woah," I said, putting up my hands to shield me from the wrath of Spot. "Calm down." Spot smirked.

"Got ya."

"Hey!" I protested. "Not fair." Pout. Spot laughed and gave me a soft kiss. Myerrrrrrrr. How am I supposed to stay mad at him when he's like this? Although I'm pretty sure that anger was real, so I don't think I'll be calling him "Daniel" any time soon. Eep!

"You should head back soon," Spot said. "Unless you _want_ everyone ta be talkin' in da morning…"

"Nope! I'm good! G'nite Spot!" I squeaked out. Spot caught my arm and turned me around for one last kiss.

"Good night, Artemis." Then he smirked real slow again, and I scampered off. Slipping in by the back door, it appeared that a few others were asleep, but plenty of people were still downstairs. Changing quickly I snuggled deep under my blanket. So, Spot had - in a day - gotten me back my locket, discussed his philosophy on girls with me, and finally, kissed me and maybe kind of sort of told me he liked me.

I am _so_ confused.

ZZZZzzzzzzz…

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***Jumps around the room like a giddy idiot* So? So? What did you guys think? I really, really, really want to hear what everyone thought about this from as many people as possible! So please say hi! :D I'm really not good at writing romance, so this chapter in particular was a challenge. ;_; Please let me know if you liked it. This made me rather nervous. *sweatdrop* Artemis didn't have a sudden change in attitude or anything, did she? *fidget***

**And a big thank you to everyone who reviewed and told me a story they know about Artemis! I loved reading all of them! 3**

**Eavis: -blush- Glad you're still liking Spot! What do you think of him now? ;) Also, I don't know how you do it, but you've been the first reviewer for the past several chapters. WOAH. 3**

**KyoKyo-chaaan: Hello new reader! If you've got a guess as to his identity, send me a message! This chapter should have pretty much confirmed it. :)**

**RandomRiter: I know, not much happened in the last chapter, but it was kind of neccessary for there to be a slow chappie. There was a little bit of action in this one though, hee hee.**

**Austra: Thanks love! Enjoy this latest chapter? ;)**

**LucyofNarnia: Hello again! Hope this chapter was interesting. *grin grin***

**Wicked: Hiya! I don't think I've gotten a review from you before. Welcome! And thanks for the really long review, it was fun. Please come back again and keep reading!**

**news to the maxx: I'm doing my best to keep the characters interesting and anti-Mary Sue. And yup, if you review, I will do my best to reply to you!**

**Dreamless-Mermaid: I've never tried reading fics out loud, although Artemis certainly yells her head off sometimes in my mind if I don't write her the right way. Definitely someone who would back you up in a fight (or possibly butt in and steal it from you XD )**

**OHMYGAWDDDD 8 REVIEWS GETTING REALLY CLOSE TO 10! :D Seriously, I feed on these things. They jazz up my day sooo much!**

**Love,**

**Saya**


	14. Soap Bubbles

**Hi! *ducks for cover from flying objects* Ahem. Well, chapter fourteen is up! A lot of people seemed to like the romance scene in the last chapter. :) This chapter's a little more on the blah side, but stuff still happens. I think you'll like one particular little bit in here. ;)**

**Please enjoy!**

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****Ch 14 - Soap Bubbles**

**Spot POV**

Spot sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. Well, at least he hadn't gotten punched in the face…

Spot paced back and forth across the dock, letting all his thoughts flow freely to the front of his mind, as they did when he swam. Artemis had reacted…well enough to the kiss. Her confusion and surprise had been rather obvious at the start - and expected - but she had kissed him back (eventually). And she didn't freak out on him afterwards - although most girls didn't, honestly - even though it had been completely out of the blue. But what was Spot supposed to do? Just stand around and stare at her and watch Pirate and see if Spot actually did like her? No, that would never do. So, he had kissed her. Which confirmed that Spot liked her, yes. That he was interested in her, yes. But why did it still not seem all together?

Spot growled at himself. Of _course_ it didn't seem all there, the girl kept secrets! Everyone kept secrets! But something was still off…He shook his head and turned back to his earlier and most pressing problem: Queens.

If Sher Khan had time to visit, even in the middle of the night, something was up. Queens's second in command hardly let her out of his sight, except when the leader of the borough was planning something. Well, they were certainly irritating enough, Spot snorted. Randomly showing up on the edge of the border - if Cat, Sparrow, and Bolt were to be belived, which they were - visiting other boroughs. At least they wouldn't do anything until after the strike, most likely during the fall or winter when it was cooler.

This was giving Spot a headache. He needed another swim. And just when he had put his clothes back on.

**Artemis POV**

Well the next morning didn't completely suck. I didn't have a hangover too bad, just a minor headache. A quick mental slap helped me ignore it for the most part. Although I woke up late again and had to dress quickly and scoot out the door. Funny how we're on strike but I'm still running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Eww. There goes my breakfast.

Or maybe not, because that little bakery was selling some _amazing_ smelling muffins still when I ran by, so I did a double take and splurged on two. They cost me fourteen cents all together, but they were well worth it. Nyom nyom nyom. On to the next food stop!

"Guess who!" I yelled, sneaking into the kitchen and covering Ben's eyes. He was standing at the sink, washing dishes.

"Get offa me, ya loony!" Ben laughed. Then he turned around and gave me a big hug, soapy hands and all.

"Augh! Sibling abuse! Sibling abuse!" I laughed, hugging him back. "Mercy!" Ben laughed and stepped back to look at me. Apparently I didn't look as okay as I thought I did, because Ben frowned a little bit. Then he squinted real careful like at my eyes. He patted the clear counter next to the sink for me to sit. I hopped up, grateful that he was willing to listen to me again. For someone who's not related to me by blood, he sure acts exactly like a brother.

"So, what's the drama this time, princess?" Ben asked, returning to the sudsy sink. Hee hee, sudsy sink. Sudsy, soapy, sloppy-_eeenough!_

"Gee, um, where do I start?" I asked sheepishly, thankful for the clatter of the kitchen. This was always a good place to talk about the latest drama and whatnot.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Ben prompted me, wiping his blond hair out of his eyes. So I started from the beginning. The very beginning.

I told Ben how, after his brother Brett died, I had been able to stay at the apartment for about a month before someone spotted me on the streets and nabbed me. Thankfully the apartment had been locked and the authorities didn't know where it was. So all they could do was ship me off to some orphanage/boarding school in Jersey, but that didn't work because I broke out and ran back here to New York. Except, being fifteen, I forgot that they would remember and get me again. Thus began the round of orphanages and "correctional facilities" - "who's food sucks, by the way," I put in for good measure - that always tried (and failed) to confiscate my knives. At one point I took the headmistress's giant scissors and lopped off my hair, which had been to my waist. That alone sent me on a whole other round of random places. Then at the last one I had figured out a good way to break out, so I stole some money and ran.

Then I started to tell Ben about the newsies. How Manhattan was closest, and they were a friendly crew. Jack Kelly, Racetrack, Much, Kid Blink, Crutchy, Skittery, Lark, Flyer, Red, and all of them were a good crew and we got alone fine. Except, some of Manhattan wasn't so comfortable adding more girls, and they didn't like me.

"You didn't throw a knife at one for thinking you were a boy again, did you?" Ben asked dryly. I stuck out my tongue.

"_No_," I said. "Now shush, you're interrupting." Ben raised his hands in peace and I continued.

So at the first party I attended as a newsie, this jerk from some other borough starts trying to talk smack to me.

"Please tell me you didn't break his nose," Ben mock pleaded. I glared at him, but the darn guy had his eyes focused on the sink, and thus my Ultimate Burn Death Glare was wasted.

"_What_ did I say about interrupting?"

Anywho, so Spot - who I didn't know at the time - comes up and breaks it up. And he was pretty dang intimidating at this point. Especially when he told Jackal off. Then Cowboy comes up, and starts talking me into this bet of his that'll get me into Brooklyn - once we come up with a valid reason - because of the issues. So then I'm in Brooklyn, and things go up and down from there. I went into detail about Pirate, and Jackal, and Sparrow, Cat, Emotions - especially the tidbit about her and Spot having been together - and Sparks, and all the rest of them. Extra careful detail was put into all the fights I'd been in, and how Spot had reacted to them. Then I told Ben all about last night, giving enough of the gory details without divulging too much. (I didn't tell him I knew Spot's real name. That would just be asking for it.)

"So that's the story," I said, a little out of breath. "But I don't know if Spot actually likes me, or if I'm just 'interesting' and kill time. I mean, it can't be easy, trying to keep Brooklyn together during the strike." I propped my chin on my hand and waited for Ben to pass his judgment. It was usually pretty good. He frowned at the soap bubbles for a second - they glared back, by the way.

"What's bugging me," he said carefully, "Is what you say Spot said after he kissed you. 'That wasn't so bad' or something?"

"Yeah, I don't know," I sighed. "Maybe he just meant that I'm not a bad kisser? It's Spot, for cryin' out loud. What do you think about this whole thing in general?"

"In general, I think it's hilarious," Ben told me frankly. "I mean really, _you_ of all people trying to win over Spot Conlon? No, don't look at me like that," he said, seeing as I was kind of glaring at him. "We both know that those other boys were just because they thought you were a bit of a pretty face. And we both also know that you were never really interested in any of them. You sound interested now, though." I sighed.

"Spot's…interesting, that's for sure," I said carefully. "And I guess I do like him, kind of. He's the only boy - besides you and Brett - who has ever given a flying fig about my fighting."

"Artemis…"

"Okay! Okay!" I said, throwing up my hands in defeat. "He's different. I don't want to say he's 'special' or anything, but he kind of is. I didn't punch him in the face for kissing me, that's for sure."

"You're still not being honest," Ben said dryly. Ultimate Death Glare Burnage! (It failed.)

"Well what do you want me to say?" I snapped. "That suddenly I'm in love with Spot Conlon or something? Do you want me to say 'Ohmaigawd I love Spot sooooo much!" I quipped, making my voice as fake, high pitched, annoying and shrilly as possible. Ben winced and lightly covered his ears.

"Alright, I get the point," he muttered. "You're not going to be very open about this Conlon kid yet. Fine. But it sounds like he's not going to be very open either, so maybe you should do something. I think," he continued, "that Spot's probably almost as confused as you are right now. From what I've heard - and this is just word off the streets - he isn't exactly the type that usually makes long term commitments. So he's picked you, for now at least. Start with that and go from there. Now, I assume you also wanted to know about the jobs I have for you?" I sat up straight and clapped my hands together. Enough with the Spot-chatter for now.

"Yup! Gimme some jobs!" I chirped.

"Well," Ben said, pulling a piece of folded paper out of his pocket, "This first job here, the guy's willing to pay you twenty dollars-" I whistled "-yeah, I know. Anyway, he's willing to pay you that much to get into this house here," he showed me the address, a very ritzy looking place, "and get the following items. Bonus for some of 'em." Ben gave me the list and proceeded to fill me in on the rest of the details. I ended up taking the job and two others, just for good measure.

The sun was blazing as I left the restaurant. Love you, too, universe. Now please go take a nice cold bath, okay? The day is so different from the night….in so many different ways. Ack, not thinking about last night, not thinking about last night…..crap I'm thinking about it. But what am I supposed to do? Go back to the docks and act like nothing happened? Or should I act like something happened? Maybe today would be a good day to avoid the docks. Play it safe (as "safe" as it got in Brooklyn).

Dear Spot: Next time you kiss a girl, please tell her just what in the heck she's supposed to do the next day. 'Kay thanks.

"Hey, Artemis!" I turned around to see Pirate strolling up.

"Hey," I said. "What's up? Need something?"

"Nah, just saw you wanderin' 'round and figured I should wake you up befoah you hit a wall," he said, grinning. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Meh." I kept walking, only to stop as Pirate called out.

"Snatch." Freeze. Turn around slowly. Stare incredulously. Do I talk in my sleep or something? Pirate stood there and just looked at me with this kind of sad look on his face.

"Dat was my name, back when I first became a newsie." He brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes. "When I was about…this tall-ish. I was good at grabbing things, so my friends decided to call me that." He held his hand at the level of his waist.

"Wh-what?" I stammered like the smart cookie I am. Pirate gave a little smirk.

"Dey didn't figure that 'Pirate' was a better nickname until a few years later. Wanna know what we called Pilot?" he asked. All I could do was blink at him. " 'Sharp.' Of course, he was da sharpest one, aside from our last friend. But then again, Spot's always been 'Spot.' Don't think he'll ever change that."

My head reeled about as it tried to absorb all this. Sharp was the kid who knew how to find my house. And that was Pilot. And then Snatch always took me home, always knew how to cheer me up, always always always…..and that was _Pirate?_ Then the last one, the last one was…was…was…..oh hell. _Spot?_

"But," I started. Pirate sighed.

"Yeah, we look kinda different now, huh?" he said. "Well, ya nevah _really_ saw Spot, cuz he was really anti-social then. Still kinda is, but not so much. An' da one time you had ta talk to him, it was dark right? He told me da next day how 'the little puppy dog dat's always gettin' lost' ran into him. It was funny. Although, I didn't think you'd forget us, all those times we had ta help you."

"I didn't…forget," I said quietly. "I just didn't know who you guys were, and things got kinda complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"I may or may not have run away from home a few months later," I muttered. Pirate laughed.

"So ya really didn't forget us then?" he asked. I shook my head. A relieved look came on to his face. "Oh good. I thought you had, the way you acted when we foist met." I frowned.

"Pirate, I was tripping on the sidewalk and you grabbed me. Then we ate lunch. Plus, I'd kind of been going around orphanages for almost two years. Not exactly an ideal situation for remembering your childhood."

"Well, I'm just glad you remembered us. And," he hesitated. "It's okay…if yoah with Spot. I thought I'd hate it, but it turns out it doesn't make me as mad as I thought it would." Pirate grinned. "Besides, now I can flirt wit' dat goil over in da Bronx."

"Pirate," I said sternly. "I am not. With Spot." Pirate just smiled a weird, knowing smile, waved and left. _Boys._ Really now. You'd think they'd come up with a cure for it or something. And how had he figured it out?

That's it, I am _definitely_ not going to the docks today. It's not safe.

Which leaves me the rest of Brooklyn to wander around. Too bad the Park's in 'Hattan or I'd just sit there. But that would require crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, and the coming back, and - hey, hold up. Those are some newsies I've never seen before.

"You fellas need something? Get lost?" I asked, wandering up to them. The big one eyed me (I think he was trying to decide if I was a girl or a guy. Thank goodness for this hat). The other two just kind of stood there and looked around.

"Nothin' ta do with you, pipsqueak," one of the others snapped. "Now go back to da Bronx or where evah yoah from." I glared at this one. Cheeky thing wasn't much taller than I was, with messy brown hair flopping in his eyes. They all had the looks of street fighters - eyes flicking everywhere, balanced as they were for a fight, some scrapes, clothes that had seen better days. No impressions of knives anywhere, though. I kept my hands in my pockets.

"Are we not still in Brooklyn?" I quipped. The tall one - let's call him Bruiser - glared the affirmative. "Then I don't need to go anywhere. Although you _boys_ should probably tell me what it is you're doing here."

"Yoah Brooklyn," the other one said in a disbelieving tone.

"Yup."

"An' just why should we believe you?"

"Would you like me to call Spot over?" I asked sweetly.

"Conlon? Ha," Bruiser snorted. "He ain't got nothin' on us."

"That's so nice to hear," drawled a voice behind me. The one that called me "pipsqueak" visibly blanched. I'll give the big guy credit for not going pale or green. The last one had disappeared back to whatever hole they crawled out of. "I wasn't aware that you'd become so brave since da last time we met."

Spot stood, perfectly at ease, hands in his pockets, giving the most contemptuous smirk I've seen in a while to the pair. Absentmindedly he took out his cane and inspected the gold topped end before twirling it lazily about.

"Since you won't tell her what it is yoah doin' in Brooklyn, why don't you tell me?" Spot asked easily. Keeping the same level tone, he said, "Or did you think I wouldn't noticed when _Queens_ decided to intrude in my territory?" His eyes flashed once at the both of them.

"You think you can take da both of us Spot?" The big one sneered. Spot smirked, and I got the shivers. That had to be one of the most _evil_ smirks I've ever seen. And coming from Spot, it was rather terrifying.

"Wrong question," Spot said calmly. "The better one would be: do you _two_ think you can take on _me_." Oooohhhh, that got their tempers going.

"Let's go Spot, here an' now," the smaller one spat out. Spot grinned.

"Gladly. Artemis, do me a favor and hold these for me?" He handed me his cane and slingshot. _Oh yeah sure Spot why don't you just ask nicely and I'll gladly do you a favor _blehhhhhhhh. Thpth. My mental age is that of a three year old.

The big one cracked his knuckles as Spot loosened himself up a bit. (Did it never occur to these guys that while yes we are on a side street, there's still people around?)

Even with two against one, Spot still clearly had the upper hand. He moved fast and then hit just as fast (and probably really hard), knocking the wind out of one before dealing with the other. He just alternated back and forth like it was a game. And frankly it looked like a game. Spot was grinning, throwing fast punches and generally looking like he was having a good time. The two would have some nice shiners later.

They wandered off, groaning. Spot just came over and took his things back, not even out of breath. He glared in their direction with a furious look on his face. Made me want to back up a step, but that probably would be a bad idea.

"You should watch where ya go wanderin'," he said, still watching to make sure the two were leaving. "Queens is startin' some trouble again."

"I could have taken care of them myself," I reminded Spot. He looked down at me and grinned.

"I know. I'd just rather you didn't have to. Besides, dey needed some remindin' dat I don't just sit at the docks. They needed remindin' that Spot Conlon watches ovah his territory," he said. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and left. I rubbed the spot, watching as he easily made his way through the crowd that had built up again. There were a few - okay, quite a few - girls who eyed him as he walked by. I frowned. _He's mine girls. Well, maybe?_

"I believe that was Spot Conlon, wasn't it?" I groaned and rolled my eyes. The hell is it with people today and sneaking up on me?

Without turning around - I knew he'd be standing close enough to hear me - I growled out, "And what the hell do _you_ want, Damien?" He just laughed and walked closer to me. I turned around to face him.

"Is that any way to talk to your dear younger brother?" he asked. Today he was dressed much as he always had in nice clean clothes, black hair parted to the sides and out of his face, dark eyes watching everything. Too bad he was taller than me now, otherwise I'd still be able to sock him in the face.

"Younger brother, yes. Dear? No," I told him sternly. "Now go away and leave me alone, twerp." I turned and started walking. If he followed me…yup, he was following me.

"Where ya goin'?" he called out.

"Away from you."

"Aw, c'mon, Artemis-"

As soon as he said my name I whirled about, unsheathing a knife into my right hand as I did. As I turned I saw the perfect target: an old, wooden lamp post. Once I was facing him I let the dagger fly. It flew perfectly, straight past the side of Damien's face and into the wood with a nice _thunk_. He froze for a second, then wiped off a drop of blood that oozed from his ear. Too bad I only nicked it, instead of taking it right off. Must be some speck of sisterly love I still have for the kid.

Damien sighed before turning around and going to retrieve my knife. It was a game we'd played as kids, though not with knives. I'd throw something - usually a ball or a marble - at a target of his choice, he'd retrieve whatever I threw, and we'd continue. Looks like the habit's still there.

"Still got a temper, huh?" he said quietly, wiping the blade before handing it back. I nodded my thanks and sheathed it.

"Guess so," I said easily. "Now seriously, what did you want?" Damien shrugged.

"I saw you, so I came to apologize. Except, well, you got involved with those kids from Queens. I was going to help you," he said hastily, seeing how I glared at him. "But then Conlon showed up. Damn, he fight's well, doesn't he?"

"It's one of the reasons I'm in Brooklyn."

"So you're really a newsie?" Nod. "Huh. Well, I'm sorry for scaring you so bad the other day." I sighed.

"It's not your fault, Damien," I said. "It's _his_ fault. I hate him." He nodded.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm still living with him, so I kind of have to do what he says. Sorry." He had on that stupid grin he always wore when he got in trouble and had to apologize. I smirked at him.

"You are such a baby, little brother."

"I object to that," Damien said calmly. "I object strongly. So strongly, in fact, that I think I'll put you in a head lock." I dodged.

"Ha, you wish," I laughed. "Good seeing you, I guess." He tipped an imaginary top hat at me before turning around and leaving. He's grown up well, all things considered. Still a bit of a brat sometimes, but that's probably just my perspective as his older sister. And don't remind me that he's a good bit taller than me, or I'll knock your block off.

I guess I will go to the docks, it's not safe for my mental health to be wandering around like this. Plus, the docks have targets for me to throw knives at, which I could really use.

~Later~

Unable to sleep, I snuck out the back door and walked down to the docks. They were pretty at night, and you could hear little cricket bugs. Little cricket bug go chirp! chirp! Little cricket bug go chirp! Man, am I out of it or what. Which is why it surprised me that someone else was also down at the docks again.

"Gwah! Oh, hi Spot."

Spot sat up from where he had been lying on the crates. He shoved his hair out of his eyes before saying, "Hey. What're you doing down here?"

"Can't sleep," I said sheepishly. He patted the spot next to him. Tentatively, I went and sat next to him, with about a foot of space between us. Spot laughed quietly.

"No, it's like this," he murmured, scooting over and closing the space. Easily he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. It was nice, in a way.

"Oh. Okay," I stammered. "Sorry, I'm not good at this, and it's been a really weird day, an-" Spot cut me off with a kiss. Mrmph! When he pulled back, he was smirking.

"You are so mean," I quipped. Spot just smirked.

"You needed to stop talking." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"So what were you doing out here?"

"Watchin' the stars," Spot said lazily, flopping back on the crates. Some fish nets covered them, making them more comfortable. I leaned back and put my head on Spot's arm. Makes a nice pillow.

"Wow, you can see them better from out here. Not nearly as nice as the country, but it's alright," I said. Spot just nodded. We just lay there for a while, just staring upwards. Spot was warm in a comforting way. I started drifting in and out of consciousness. Hastily I swiped at my eyes.

"If yoah gonna fall asleep, you should go back to the House," Spot said quietly.

"I'm okay."

"Artemis…" Spot's voice held a bit of a warning tone.

"What?"

Spot rolled up on his elbow and looked down at me. Vaguely I wondered if he would kiss me again. That would be nice. I think he was glaring again.

"Go back to the lodging house." I shook my head. Spot sighed and stood up. Then he grabbed my hands and pulled me up, too.

"Oi!" Spot wrapped me up in his arms. I was smooshed against him, with nothing else to do. Clearly, someone doesn't play fair. I grumbled a bit before wrapping my arms around him. It was clear that Spot was smirking. Really, how could he not be?

"It'll be fine," he said. I shut my eyes and just listened. "I always take care of my goils. And we've got a party in Manhattan tomorrow. So don't worry 'bout things, alright?"

"Merph," was all I said. Spot pulled me back a bit and tilted my head up for another kiss. It was soft and sweet, and I felt safe with his arms around me. Really, he is _such_ a player.

After that, it was much easier to fall asleep.

_Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in...are you aware..._

* * *

**Well, I hope that was enjoyable. Thank you everyone who has added this to their favorites/alerts!**

**Question for everyone: what music do you listen to when you write? Doesn't matter what you're writing, I want to know! Usually I listen to J-Pop (Japanese pop), and recently K-Pop (Korean). Stuff in other languages.**

**Eavies: Loooooooove. That may have been the climax, maybe not. ;) Glad you enjoyed the little romance scene. And I hope you keep writing!**

**RandomRiter: Well, it's all in your perspective what's a little action and what's a lot. Heehee. Hope Artemis was more of her sassy self in this chappie.**

**Austra: Gwah! I updated! I updated! :P Sorry, I was on my summer travels when I left you all with a cliffhanger.**

**xxWickedWench: Thanks love. I needed the encouragement cookies. They were delicious. And I love long reviews, even when they end up rambling.**

**news to the maxx: Phew! Glad it was a believable chapter. And wouldn't a lot of us like to have been in her spot (heehee "spot") to see Spot swimming around...**

**Ms. Tink: Thanks love!**

**xXEmiShaeXx: Your review gave me the warm fuzzies! ^_^ I'm so glad you like the way I'm writing Spot. He's a tricksy one!**

**Lacey White: Hello! Hello! Please keep enjoying this fic!**

**LucyOfNarnia: Glad you liked it!**

**NewsieGoil09: I will continue this story to the best of my abilities!**

**Spot'sGalFrom1899: Hiya! Yup, Artemis is one of my favorite's, too. I think Athena's my second favorite. Anywho, please enjoy!**

**Well, well, well. Will you look at that! 11 reviews for one chapter! Looks like I owe you guys a new chapter lickity split. I'll get right on it! Also, I am still writing my other fic, Eyes of the Tiger with David, it's just been on a hiatus. My apologies. **

**Love, Saya**


	15. House of Cards

**Yayyy, Chapter 15! I meant to have this up faster, but the universe is currently conspiring against me by giving me a bit of a cold. *coughcough* But I worked really hard on this chapter. Besides: HOLY CROW GUYS 15 CHAPTERS WHUT! Starting after chapter five, each chapter averages around ten pages of writing. Some are a little longer. Like this one! :D**

**Also! IMPORTANT: Someone nominated this story over on **www(dot)snowyfridays(dot)com/summerawards. **for a summer Newsies fanfic reading award. Please go over and vote _after_ you read this chapter! It would really mean a lot to me. :)**

**Now, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 15 - House of Cards**

"Gimme back my comb!"

"Where's my shirt? Cat!"

"Sparks, get outta me stuff ya bummer!"

"Emotions! Will you _please_ get yoah damn cat outta heah?"

Will someone give me some _earplugs?_ Dear God take me now! And I thought the boys were loud? I'm sorry, I revise that opinion: the _girls_ are loud. Especially when getting ready for a party hosted by Medda. And the damn thing's only for us and 'Hattan! Geeze! I spend a good portion of the day sleeping to be assaulted by this? Someone's gonna get soaked.

"Oi, Artemis! Stop bein' a lazy ass an' get ready!" I'm going to say that was…Sparrow. Or possibly the girl I don't really talk to named Whistler.

"The hell is there to get ready for?" I groaned.

"The party, duh," Cat said diplomatically, tying her long hair in a half pony tail. It cascaded down to the middle of her back like a wave of chocolate. Speaking of which, now I want some. Wonder if Emotions has any.

"Merrrr, whyyyy?" I whined at her. Cat did that very finely arched eyebrows look that only Cat can pull off so well before answering.

"Because if you aren't out of that bed and making yourself presentable in five seconds," she said, turning around to turn the full force of her Cat-glare on me, "I will personally dunk you in that tub over there." She pointed to the tub that had been standing all day. By now the water was probably nice and chilled.

"Nah, I'm good," I said hastily, get up and finding a clean pair of clothes. I rummaged under my bed and came up with a few articles of clothing. A dark brown pair of pants that hadn't been worn and still looked nice, a pair of clean socks and undergarments, and a nice (enough) dark green shirt. Quickly I changed in an open stall before heading to the sinks, swiping someone's comb - probably Emotions's - along the way. My hair required quite a bit of water and combing before it was presentable. Cat, however, apparently did not think so.

"Oh geeze," she groaned when she saw me. "Dere's _no_ way I'm lettin' you go to the party lookin' like _that_."

"What?" I protested. I was clean, the pants were clean and still looked new, and the shirt hadn't been worn since the last time it was washed. "What's wrong with this outfit?"

"There's nothing wrong with the _outfit_," Cat said bluntly. "It's the person _in_ it dat I have a problem with. Now c'mere." Like a good little Artemis I went and sat on the stool in front of Cat. I watched in the mirror as she took her comb and worked through my hair again. Then she pulled it back in a style similar to hers, but with two pieces of hair framing my face. Without letting go Cat reached over and grabbed a ribbon that matched my shirt and tied my hair up. The effect in the mirror was rather nice. I looked like a girl, anyway.

"Nice work Cat," Whistler commented, brushing out her wavy red hair. "She could almost pass for a lady." They grinned at each other. If Cat would have tolerated me moving right then, I would've turned around and stuck my tongue out at the both of them.

"Yeah, I'm working on that," Cat said. "Artemis sit still."

"I am sitting still," I grumbled as Cat took a damp rag to my face. "And I object to not being a lady."

Cat grinned. "You fight with knives in the streets. You ain't no lady. Okay, I'm done. Scoot."

"Gladly." I retied my shoes and quickly scooted out of there before they could spray me with perfume or something. *Shudder.* I look in the only tall mirror we had showed that the whole ensemble was pretty nice. The pants weren't too long on me (huzzah!), and the shirt was a little tailored for a girl's body. It was nice. Nothing fancy, but it was nice.

Just because I could, I slid down the stair railing - and straight into Spot.

"Oof! Sorry Spot!" I laughed. Spot grinned.

"Someone's in a good mood."

"There's a party tonight!" I said happily. "That's means possibly free food! And the dancing's always fun. And maybe I'll beat Race again at poker!" I was starting to babble. Babbling is not good. Shut up, Artemis.

Spot smirked. "Not likely."

"Aw, c'mon, have a little more faith in me, will ya? I beat him that one time."

"Dat's like the once in a lifetime time dat you'll evah beat Race." We walked out to the front of the lodging house. You could see perfectly across the docks and across the Bridge to Manhattan. Was Spot escorting me? That was sweet.

And then Jackal stepped out. Ennnngh. However, I was determined not to let him rain on my parade. Neither of us needed another fight in front of Spot.

"Oh yes, Jackal," Spot said, slipping an arm around my waist. I looked up at him, but he had his icy-stare-of-doom on in Jackal's direction. "I haven't had ta talk with youse in a while. I'd like to keep it dat way. Understand me?" Jackal nodded, gave me a sour look - hey, I didn't eat a lemon for breakfast - and skulked off towards the Bridge.

"Is it okay to let him go off like that?" I asked. Spot still had his arm around me.

"He'll be fine. Better to let him go den try an' make him stay. Speaking of which, we should start heading over. Whistler!" Spot yelled back into the house. "Get everyone assembled an' out da door! Now!" I covered my ears even though I was outside. Whistler's trademark shrill whistle was still audible. Several curses and threats of a soaking floated out the door, along with many yells of "My ears!"

Spot and I weren't really the types to hold hands while walking, so we just walked together towards the Bridge. We'd been walking a few blocks when Spot pulled me over into an alley.

"Hey! Spot, what are we doing?" Spot had a mischievous smirk on his face.

"This," he said simply before kissing me. Really, can I get a warning or something before he randomly kisses me? But he is a really good kisser. Spot's lips were warm against my own, and he carefully held my face such that my head didn't touch the alley wall I was leaning against. For my own part, I put my arms around his waist and loosely clasped my hands together. A tiny thought tickled my mind, but I pushed it aside for the moment.

When Spot was done kissing me, I asked, "So does this mean I'm your girl?" Spot gave me a disbelieving look.

"No, it means yoah just another goil in Brooklyn," he said sarcastically. "Of course it means yoah my goil!" He cocked his head to the side and looked at me. I was blushing, I could feel it.

"Oh, good," I said, relieved. I smiled up at Spot, who gave a sarcastic smirk of his own in reply.

"Why would you think otherwise?" he asked. He frowned a little bit. Some of his hair was flopping into his eyes.

"Spot," I said sternly. "Just a kiss does not make me your girl. It means I _could_ be your girl, but you weren't exactly clear on that, you know." Spot rolled his eyes.

"Yoah nuts," he muttered. I grinned.

"That's why you like me, right?" Spot just smirked. That's when the little itchy thought made itself clear. _The bet._ Ohhhhhhh snap. I froze. Spot looked at me, worried.

"You alright?" I blinked and cleared away the thought. _I'll talk to Cowboy about this later. Later._

"Yup. My mind just went blank, is all." I gave what I hoped to be a convincing smile. Spot snorted.

"Only you."

"And just what is that supposed to mean, mister?" I asked, full of sassy attitude. Spot shook his head and started walking out of the alley.

"It means dat we'll be late unless we take this short cut." Spot took me by the hand and led me out, back to the main streets. We came out right near the Bridge, with Brooklyn coming right around the corner after us.

Spot and I walked across the bridge, trading sarcastic remarks about everything from the Delancys - probably raised by chickens and squirrels -, to Cowboy's bandana - he's had the thing since forever -, to idiots who wandered around Brooklyn. It made the long trek across the bridge seem a lot shorter, especially when everyone else popped in randomly with a side comment. The best was Cat's serious inquiry of Jack's bandana: "I wonder if he ever washes it?" which promptly caused all of us to vow never to touch the thing so long as we lived.

Medda's theater positively _gleamed_ with all the lighting. Someone must have cleaned well, because every wooden surface was all shiny. Made for good slipping, not so much for putting your glass down. The music was already playing, and some of the Manhattaners were out on the floor already. Kid Blink and Mush had - of course - brought two girls I didn't recognize and were definitely not newsies. Jack and the Mouth (oh right, David) were standing off to the side. Spot went to greet them (read: trade nasty germs by hacking into their hands and shaking for some unknown reason ew) as I went to check out the scene.

"Artemis!" Red waved me over to a cluster of girls on the side.

"Hey." Flyer wiggled her eyebrows.

"What's up with you and Spot?" she asked slyly. I rolled my eyes.

"Nothing, you dorks," I said. "Why? What's up with you and Blink?"

Flyer wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, riiight."

"My point exactly. Need anything else from me?" I asked.

"Why dontcha show us some knife tricks?" Lark suggested. I shot her a grateful glance for changing the subject. Spot's girl I might be, but ready to talk about it I am most certainly not. It was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Lark just smiled her understanding.

Since this was a party and not a brawl (hopefully, but you never know), I had only brought three knives. Yes, that counts as _only_ three. I reached down and pulled out the two that were strapped around my calves and grabbed the one tucked in the waistband at the back of my pants. I wonder if Spot noticed that when he put his arm around me? Probably. He notices everything. Carefully, I started tossing one around in the air, while Emotions sat nearby and held the other two. Once I was warmed up I took the other two and added them to the fray. The knives went whirling, end over end, through the air. They caught the light nicely and provided a welcome distraction for my brain.

"Where'd ya learn dat?" Red asked, braiding her hair back.

"My brother taught me," I said without looking away.

"Must be a nice brother." I shrugged.

"Yeah, he was. Can I end this little show now?" The girls laughed.

"Sure," Sparks said. "We want to dance now, anyway." I grinned.

"Good."

Once the knives were put away, we walked over to the edge of the dance floor. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see Pirate. He grinned and gave a dramatic bow.

"May I have this dance, m'lady?" I stared at him incredulously.

"You know how to dance?" I asked. He gave me an offended look.

"But of course. Medda's only tried to teach most of us here so many times," he said. He sounded a little weary of it. Medda must be a strict teacher. Although the thought of her trying to get the _Brooklynites_ to dance made me giggle. _Manhattan, _sure. But Brooklyn?

"Alright," I agreed. "Let's see what you can do."

Pirate actually turned out to be a pretty good dancer. We whirled around on the dance floor for a good while, laughing every time someone messed up. It was a good amount of fun, and it made me sorry that I didn't like Pirate back the way he seemed to like me. Every time I opened my mouth to try and apologize, though, Pirate would just tell me to shush before distracting me with some other dance move. Eventually I begged off to go sit in a chair and just watch. Cat and Colt were amazing and graceful, of course. Sparks and Pilot weren't too bad together, actually. Pilot was a gentleman and managed to correct Sparks's horrible dancing without angering her. I'm not even going to comment on Kid Blink and Mush with their girls. Use your imagination. Wait. On second thought, don't use your imagination. I don't want to know.

_This_ time I heard Spot come up behind me. "Care for a drink?" he asked, holding out a glass of water. I nodded.

"Thanks," I said, taking a huge gulp. Medda must be saving all the ice for the soda pop. The water was room temperature.

"Pirate wear you out with his dancing?" Spot asked. He sat down next to me as I nodded, still drinking. Time to put the cup down before I get cramps.

"He's surprisingly good," I commented. Spot nodded.

"Pirate probably picked it up the fastest."

"I have no clue how that worked out." Spot smirked.

"I don't think any of us do." I laughed. Pirate glanced over to where I was sitting. He's gotta be telepathic or something because he stuck out his tongue and wandered over to a card game. I glared at his back.

Spot stood up. "So, would you dance with me?" He held out his hand. I looked at him skeptically.

"You really wouldn't mind? Being, y'know, seen with me?"

"I'm asking you ta dance, Artemis," Spot said dryly. "So make up your mind an' stop asking so many damn questions." I grinned.

"Then, sir," I said haughtily, taking his hand. "You may escort me to the dance floor." Spot just smirked and led me out.

Spot proved himself to be a rather capable dancer, actually. Although that may have had more to do with the fact that he's a really good mover because he's such a good fighter. Nyah. I ended up showing Spot how to move to a few dances, while he showed me how to forget the planned moves and just have fun. Funny to think that, just a few short weeks ago, I was new to Brooklyn. And now I'm dancing with the King of Brooklyn as his girl. I'd insert the mental "squee!"-ing here, if I was that kind of girl. So glad I'm not.

Soon enough - although probably close to an hour passed - I was tired again and out of breath. Spot and I split to go do our own things for a while. Which for me meant getting a glass of water from Medda and curious looks from newsies as I sat at the bar. Spot had gone to the opposite side of the hall to play what was most likely poker. I scanned the room for Jack and found him and David talking near the dance floor. Hastily I gulped the water down before making my way over.

"Heya Cowboy," I greeted him. He nodded. "David." Another nod (he didn't really look like he knew what he was doing). "Jack can I talk to you for a minute? Like, somewhere else? Maybe outside?" Jack caught on.

"Sure. David, I'll be back later." Now David looked really panicked, and I had to fight to not laugh at him to his face.

Jack and I stepped outside to the front of the theater. The street lamps were on, and no one else was out one the streets. The night air felt cool after all the dancing, but there were still traces of humidity in the air. It was still possible to hear all the noise coming from inside, the lights illuminating the entrance. I stepped over to the side were it was darker and leaned against the cool brick.

"So how's it been goin' over in Brooklyn?" Jack asked, leaning against the wall about a foot down from me.

I shrugged. "Pretty well, I guess. I mean, all things considered." Jack nodded.

"An' how've things been goin' with Spot?" I wrinkled my nose, regardless of the fact that Cowboy wouldn't be able to see me.

"I think you could see for yourself," I said dryly. "What do you think?"

"I'm thinkin' Spot really likes ya," Jack said. "Who do ya think's winning da bet right now?"

"Woah, woah, Cowboy. Hold on," I said. "Now, just because Spot told me that I'm his girl, and just because we danced together, does not mean that Spot's in love with me. I mean, geeze. We don't even know if I actually made him fall for me or not."

"Aw, yoah just afraid of losin' five bucks," Jack joked.

"Yeah, right," I quipped. "I-"

"Is this some kind of joke?" We whirled around to see Spot standing in front of the doors. The light from inside illuminated half of his face, showing a shocked and confused expression. But that could all too easily change. "Well? One of you, say something!"

"I-We-that is-," I stammered, scrambling mentally to rearrange my thoughts. Spot wouldn't get mad at me, would he? Spot glared at me. One question answered, one to go.

"Look, Spot," Jack started calmly. He put his hands up, as in self defense. "This was just a bit of fun, alright? No need ta get-"

"Save it, Cowboy," Spot snapped. Then he whirled and went right back into the theater.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. I have to go after him.

"Well, Cowboy, it looks like you won the bet," I said. "Pay you later, alright?"

"Artemis-" But I was already running inside, after Spot. Y'know, the entrace here is really too big. There's the stairs, and all the little hallways before you get to the actual theater itself. But at least it's big enough that Spot hadn't gotten back to the party. I caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder.

"Spot!" He glared over his shoulder at me before shrugging off my hand. Just that act hurt more that he could know.

"Go away, Artemis," he snapped. "I don't want to hear yoah excuses."

"Spot, will you just _listen_ to me?" I pleaded. "Please, you don't understand. I had to get out of Manhattan, and Jack-"

"Jack what?" Spot hissed, whirling. He slammed his fist into the wall next to my head. For a minute I froze, scared. "Let me guess, Jack thought up some little 'plan' so dat you'd go along with it?"

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I asked, looking at Spot's eyes. They were all icy, with none of the warmth that had been there earlier. "Jack just thought you were getting bored with your last girl and maybe I'd be interested. I don't know why, alright! I don't know _why_ Cowboy thought up that scheme!"

"But you went with it, didn't you?" Spot demanded. "Thought it'd be a fun game?" He shoved off the wall and started walking again, back towards the party.

"That's not it at all!" I yelled after him. "I bet _against_ Jack! I thought you wouldn't like me! I thought…" What had I thought? That I couldn't make Spot fall for me, or that he just wouldn't. Maybe I should have bet the other side, but who cares. I followed after Spot as he stalked towards the party. "Spot, will you stop walking away from me?"

"Didn't I tell you ta go away?" Spot was heading towards the bar. Luckily this kept us out of the main light, although I'm sure enough newsies noticed Spot's comings and goings that I'd hear about this later in the lodging house.

"Dammit, Spot, will you stop being suck a jerk!" I shoved Spot around to face me. He glared, but I glared back. "Are you even listening to what I'm saying? Or are you just ignoring me?"

"Yoah a little hard ta ignore right now."

"Look, it's not what you think, alright? I just needed to get out of Manhattan and Jack needed to give me a reason to go to Brooklyn!"

"So you made a bet on me." Argh, I was really flubbing this explanation, but Spot wasn't even trying to listen to me! At least, that's how it felt. He probably heard every word loud and clear, since he had his icy face on. Spot stalked back out to the entrance. I followed every step, determined to get this straightened out.

"Why does this matter so much?" I asked. "Geeze, Spot, talk to me!"

"I want you to get out," Spot said icily.

"What, get out of the party? You want me to go back to the lodge house right now? By myself? It's late!"

"No," Spot said. Then he turned to face me. "I want you to get out of Brooklyn."

I froze for a minute and just stared at Spot, not understanding what he had just said. Then it sank in. Spot was telling me to leave Brooklyn. He was _kicking me out_ because _I made a bet with Jack about Spot._ I said very quietly, "You're a hypocrite."

"Excuse me?" Spot's eyes narrowed. My temper started to fray as I said more loudly.

"You're. A. Hypocrite," I growled at Spot. "Talk about dishing it out but not being able to take it. How many girls have you gone out with, just because you and Pirate or someone made a dumb ass bet that you could win her heart in a week? Huh?"

"That's completely different," Spot said. Damn him, he didn't even look like he felt guilty about it.

"The hell it is!" I was almost yelling now. "I bet most of your girls only see you for a month at most before you get bored an move on! You make me sick!" Spot's eyes flashed.

"I told you to _leave_," he said angrily. Then my temper really snapped.

"SHUT UP, _Jonathan!_" I yelled. Spot's eyes flew open then, and he stalked forward, a murderous look on his face. Too angry (and stubborn) to move, I stood still until he was less that a foot away from me.

"I _told_ you never to call me that!" Spot growled. I glared up at him, furious.

"And why should I care?" I spat. "You're kicking me out, aren't you? For all you care I could go to Queens tomorrow." Spot looked even more furious then, but with a hint of something else flashing in his eyes. Fear? Hurt? Betrayal? Yeah, right. _I'm_ the one who should be feeling those things.

"Don't you dare go to them!"

"You're not the boss of me, Spot! I could go where I want to!"

"If you dare go to Queens-"

"You'll what? Send someone over to get me?" I shook my head and walked away from Spot. In a bout of anger and rage I punched the wall as hard as I could. The brief flash of pain in my fist cleared my head for a second. I yelled, "_What the hell are you so afraid of?_"

Spot didn't answer. I don't think he had one.

Tears were starting to prick at my eyes. "Forget this. I don't need it," I muttered before walking out.

Something you don't realize when you have friends to walk home with: It gets pretty dark. And the drunkards and thieves come out, looking for fun. Their raucous calls echoed after me as I stalked away from the theater and towards the Bridge. For the most part I ignored them and stuck to the road, except for one point where I passed directly in front of a bar.

Two of them were standing outside, clearly already wasted. Their clothes were those of business men, albeit that they weren't very high class business men. They called out lewd things as I approached. One of them stepped in my way when I didn't answer.

"Well lookit dis pretty li'l thing all out on her own," he laughed.

"Let me through," I said quietly, still furious.

"Aw look, she talks," he said to his friend, like it was a joke. The other one snorted. "Why don't you stay an' have some fun with us?"

"I'd rather not."

"Now look here," the same one said, making a grab for my face. I easily dodged, and he swore as he tripped.

"Alright," I said icily. "If you two are so _eager_ for some _fun_, why don't we step into this alley right here?" I pointed to the one next to the bar. They grinned, clearly thinking they'd have to upper hand. Sorry, not this time you won't. I need to let off some steam.

"After you, m'lady," the other one said. I sneered at him and stalked forward, aware of every drunken step they took. When I was in far enough that they couldn't see what I was doing - not like it mattered, they were drunk off their asses - I pulled out the knife at my back.

"So, who's got the death wish first?" I hissed. They looked confused, then angry. When one of them tried to lift his bottle, I threw. The blade sank into the flesh at his shoulder and he went down, yelling in pain. Without taking my eyes off the second one - who was watching his buddy - I pulled out the last two knives and whirled them around. A little trick I hadn't shown off yet - spinning a knife as fast as I can in each hand. Took me forever to learn. It's a gimmick that works, though. The second one's eyes were now locked on the spinning blades.

"You should run now," I said quietly. He took off. I didn't even have to think. The knife in my left hand went flying to sink into his shoulder, too. He dropped like a stone, clutching the wound. Blood was spilling darkly onto the cobble stones. The first one was still conscious, but much quieter now. After carefully replacing the knife in its sheath, I walked over and yanked out the blade. He moaned as I wiped the blood on his clothes before proceeding to the second one and repeating the process.

"You bitch," the second one spat as I wiped his blood off onto his shirt. "You'll pay for this! You're going to hell!" I just stared down at him as I put the knife away.

"Perhaps I am," I said calmly. "But that's not for you to judge." Then I walked off, the last knife still in my hand. No one bothered me when I came out of the alley. I kept the knife out for the rest of the walk to Brooklyn, whirling it around my hands. It kept the rest of the idiots away.

How had this happened? It was like I had carefully built a house of cards, only to have it come crashing down because someone bumped into the table. Damn, that's exactly what happened. I've been living in a house of cards. And this whole metaphor-ing deal is getting on my nerves. Screw that, I've been living in _Brooklyn_ and just…aw hell.

"Artemis? That you?" Damien walked up to me, hesitant. "Oh good, it is you. Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing you can help with little brother," I sniffled. I put the knife away.

"Want to talk about it?" I nodded. I wouldn't tell him all the details, but I could at least talk to him for a while. So for the first time in a long time, I leaned on my little brother.

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**Aaaaaaand this is the part where I now go into hiding from angry readers! :D *hides* Just kidding, just kidding. You'll get another chapter soon, don't worry. Although I'm doing some moving around so it may take a little while. Please be patient with me a little while longer.**

**Also! Reminder to go to **www(dot)snowyfridays(dot)com/summerawards. **and vote/nominate! Vote for any other fics you like, too, but it would really mean a lot to me if some of you would vote for Spot of Luck. It's not the most popular story, but we're working on it. ;)**

**This is going to be a general response to my lovely readers (sorry, I know I'm usually better about this): PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I'M WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AS YOU READ. PROBABLY. Also, the last chapter got 9 reviews! Keep working on it guys!**

**~Love, Saya  
**


	16. Rally!

**Um...hello there! *hides* I realize that it's been much longer than it normally is when I don't update...but this time I have a reason! Really! And it's a good reason! I've been kicking butt at college, so all my time's been devoted to that, I'm afraid.**

**Anywho, please enjoy. This is the big rally chapter I know a bunch of people were excited for.**

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**Chapter 16 - Rally!**

"Well hello there."

"Hi, Emotions," I said tiredly without looking up. I felt Damien tense and then relax next to me. We were sitting on the cool stone steps in front of the lodge house. Maybe not the best place to be at the moment, but I needed to get my stuff. My head stayed against my knees. I was too tired for any more drama.

"The name's Emotions," she said, presumably introducing herself to my brother.

"Damien," he said cautiously.

"Mind if I borrow your sister for a bit?" Emotions asked.

"Go right ahead. I'm heading home." As Damien got up and left Emotions took his place. We sat for a while in silence. Hmm, when did I say he was my brother? Sneaky, sneaky Emotions.

"So, Spot rejected you." I nodded. "Love, look up." I turned my head to stare at Emotions. She tsk-ed her tongue before pulling out a handkerchief. Gently she wiped around my eyes.

"He's such a fat head," I muttered. "He's a fat head, meanie, jerk piece of work. I mean, it's not like he doesn't do this stuff often enough himself."

"Mmm," Emotions said sympathetically. "But this time, I think he's actually hurting." I stared at her bleakly.

"Yeah? And just how do you figure that?" Emotions gave a quiet smile.

"I was his girl, once," she began. "When we…separated, it wasn't pretty. But it also wasn't as harsh as tonight has been. Those two in the alley will be fine, by the way. Someone was taking them to a doctor." I blushed and looked away. I wasn't proud of how I had acted, but I would neither deny nor defend it.

"Anger sucks," I said, leaning against her. Emotions hummed her agreement.

"Anyway," she continued her story, "Spot and I had a messy break up. But I'm still here, and I'm even leadin' the girls of Brooklyn half the time. It just takes the boy a while to get his head on straight again. Or, well, as straight as it ever is." I laughed at the amendment. "Spot wasn't expecting to like you either." I stared at her. She shrugged. "You're a newsgirl. The last newsgirl Spot was with was me. So it's confusing to the both of you. I don't think either of you were expecting to fall in love with the other."

"I'm not in love with Spot," I muttered, glaring at the sidewalk stones. Shut up stones, you can't talk.

"Then why are you crying love?"

I shrugged. "It just sucks to get rejected. And I don't think Spot's in love with me anymore, if he ever was." Emotions smiled and gave me a hug.

"He'll get over it," she said quietly. "He will. And he is in love with you, he's just too much of a boy to figure it out."

"Boys are stupid." Emotions laughed.

"Yes they are," she agreed. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and find you a place to stay."

"I've got a place," I said. "I just need to get my stuff." Emotions nodded.

"I'll go with you," she said.

"What? But, it's dark, and you could get hurt, and-" Emotions put a finger over my lips to quiet me.

"Artemis, Spot may not feel like it now, but if anything were to happen to you tonight, he would feel personally responsible. So please, let me go with you. I'll be able to get back just fine by myself." I sighed and threw up my hands in defeat before heading up the stairs.

Personally I would've just thrown everything into my sack and headed out the door, but Emotions made me check to make sure everything was put in neatly and that I didn't miss anything. I wrote down the address of where I'd be staying and gave it to her. Then we walked past the bridge to my brother's house. It was deep enough in Brooklyn that you wouldn't find it too easily, and far away enough from the bridge and the docks that no newsie would find me while they weren't selling. I rummaged through my bag for the key.

"Hey, Emotions?" I said, keeping my eyes focused on the bag.

"Hmm?"

"Can you, can you tell Spot that-that I'm sorry? I'm sorry things turned out this way."

"Sure, I'll tell him," she said. I nodded.

"Thanks." I slipped the key into the lock and watched Emotions head off back to the house. About halfway down the street a thin figure slipped in and out of the shadows and followed her all the way down. I grinned. Quicksilver was out on patrol.

Stepping inside the doorway, I fumbled about for the matches and candle usually left by the door. A click sounded behind me in the dark as the slight pressure of something hard and cold touched the back of my head. My breath caught silently in my chest, and my heart skipped a little beat. Slowly, I started to reach for the knife around my neck.

"Freeze, and don't make a sound," Ben said. There was barely enough light to tell were he was. He had better night vision than me, darn it all.

I sighed. "Ben, we both know I could take that out of your hand and have it pointed back in your face."

"Yes, but it's good to remind you not to get careless."

"Oh, you are _definitely_ Brett's little brother," I growled. Ben struck a match and lit the candle. In the flickering light I saw him grin a little sadly.

"True, true," he agreed ever so humbly. "Now, I've got some warm milk heated up and some chocolate. Let's have a little talk."

I followed Ben gratefully into the familiar little kitchen that was overrun with various books and artifacts. Pulling out one of the worn wooden chairs, I sat as Ben poured us some hot chocolate in ceramic mugs. Then, as the rest of the world slumbered around us, I relived the past two months once again. But this time, I didn't feel so alone. There were those who still supported me, and so for their sakes, I couldn't let them down by running away again.

**Emotions POV**

Emotions quietly walked her way back to the lodging house, slightly annoyed. Actually, more than slightly annoyed. Emotions was rather infuriated. Everyone would be back soon, but there was one particular person she would have to stop before they went inside. With a little luck - and with Quicksilver following her - she'd find this person and not yell in front of the rest of the newsies.

"Quicksilver," Emotions called out. There was no reply, but then she wasn't expecting one. Quicksilver was a _very_ good follower. "When I find Spot, do me a favor and scram." Again, there was no reply, but Emotions knew that the boy would do as she had said.

Light was spilling out of the lodging house as the newsies drowsily stumbled in and up the stairs. Emotions waited in the alley for a moment, watching. Doubtless there would be questions to answer and concerns to put aside, but that was for later. For now, Emotions had found her target. She waved her hand over her shoulder as a sign for Quicksilver to disappear. There wasn't even the pitter patter of feet or the rustle of cloth to mark his disappearance.

As per Spot's usual method, he was in the back of the group, walking by himself. Emotions headed straight through the large group for her leader. Several newsies muttered sleepy hellos or questions. She only nodded to the hellos and ignored the questions, heading straight for the target. Upon reaching him, Emotions pushed him back with a hand against his chest.

"Spot, you have _got_ to get that girl back," Emotions whispered, staring up at Spot. Spot glared back.

"I don't know what yoah talking about," he said icily.

"Stop being an idiot. It doesn't work well, and you know _exactly who_ I am talking about," Emotions hissed. The thing Spot hated about Emotions sometimes was that she always knew the buttons to press to get what she wanted. And she didn't even sound manipulative when she did it.

"We're not having dis conversation," Spot said in clipped tones.

"This isn't a conversation," Emotions said, "It's an order." Spot just brushed past her. Emotions sighed and rolled her eyes at the dramatics.

"She said she was sorry, y'know," she called out after him. A few other newsies stopped to look back for a second before being ushered on by Spot. With an angry sigh Spot turned around and walked back to where Emotions was still standing. When Spot was standing in front of her again, Emotions continued. "Artemis is sorry that you had to find out this way."

"An' you would know," Spot said disbelievingly.

"Actually, I would," Emotions said quietly. "I was cleaning up the mess you both made."

"Both?" Spot echoed, confused. Inside Emotions did her little happy dance that Spot was paying attention.

"Let's just say that after you two yelled at each other, Artemis let off some steam on two men stupid enough to think they could take advantage of her." Anger and fury flashed briefly across Spot's eyes. "Anyway, someone was takin' them to a doctor when I passed by. And Artemis is now safe in a different home. Oh, she also gave me her address. Here." Emotions held out the scrap of folded paper.

"I don't need dat," Spot said. Emotions rolled her eyes and shoved it into Spot's shirt pocket.

"Well, you might, so keep it. An' don't go rushing off to find her or anything. She's all broken up as is right now. Give it at least a day." With that, Emotions walked off and into the lodge house. Luckily, most of the girls (and guys) were going to sleep. Maybe they would hold off on the questions at least until tomorrow morning.

**Artemis POV**

Here's something they don't teach you in orphanages: being part of giant newsie rallies gives you some major jitters.

After waking up this morning to find Ben already gone, I had quietly rearranged the room that had been mine before heading out for Manhattan. Jack had, of course, been expecting me. Although when I tried to pay him for the bet he refused, saying he was calling it off on account that it wasn't a fair bet.

"Y'know, Jack," I whispered, standing next to him in Medda's theater, "I would reeeeally feel better if you would just take the money."

"And I already told ya, I can't," Jack said back. "Now disappear, Brooklyn just got heah." I grumbled and wandered off to the backstage. Outside you could hear the growing roar of newsboys and girls filing into the theater. Everyone would probably be here soon enough. Coney Island newsies, however, are extremely boring, with no hotheads among them. Although I guess I shouldn't really be getting into any fights right now.

Soon enough the whole place was filled with the noise - and smell - of New York City newsies. Jack took to the stage with Spot and David as I went and hid in the back of the Manhattan newsies. Everyone was cheering and shouting, blurring all sound into a thudding roar. Spot looked rather pleased to be standing on the stage to Jack's left, at the head of the newsie rally. All the newsies were yelling and waving their signs around. Jack waved his arms for everyone to quiet down.

"Carryin' da banner!" he shouted. Everyone went nuts (again). I grinned as everyone cheered for Jack. Like a great wave, the exhilaration, excitement, and adrenalin of everyone around me picked me up and carried me along with it.

"So we've come a long way," Jack continued, "but we ain't dere yet, and maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But dat's fine, we'll just get tougher wit' it." More clapping and cheering. Spot clapped by Jack's side, enthusiastic. "But also, also we gotta get smart an' start listenin' to my pal David," brief cheering, "who says stop soakin' da scabs." Ooooooo not the best thing to tell them when they really don't like those guys.

"What're we suppose ta do to da bums, kiss 'em?" Race said snarkily, earning a few snickers.

"Hey look, any scab I see I soak 'em, period," Spot said. Most of the newsies shouted their agreement. Spot made motions like he was about to punch someone's face in.

"No! No, no!" David protested. "That's what they want us to do. If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands!"

"Hey look, dey're gonna be playing with _my_ hands alright," Spot said. David blanched at the thought. It was funny, because David's only a little taller than Spot. And when Spot stands up tall and gets in his face, it makes him seem taller. Not that I was, y'know, looking or anything. "Cuz it's ain't what dey say, it's what _we_ say. And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em." The newsies cheered at the thought. (Uh, guys, you'd be fightin the Bulls. Just as a little fyi/reminder/wake up call.)

"Got no brains," Jack said, pointing at his head with the first two fingers of his right hand. He leaned in towards the crowd as they argued amongst themselves. "What, we're startin' ta fight each other. It's just what da big shots wanna see. Dat we're street rats! Street rats with no brains! No respect for nothin' includin' ourselves!

_That_ got everyone to shut up and sit down.

"So heah's how it is," Jack continued, building momentum. "If we don't act together, den we're nothin'. If we don't stick together den we're nothin'. An' if we can't even _trust_ each other, den we're nothin'."

"Tell 'em, Jack!" Kid Blink yelled, hanging off of a balcony. (Please don't attempt this at home, only Kid Blink is *possibly* stupid enough to try this and not fall.)

"So, what's it gonna be?" Jack yelled.

"We're wit' you, Jack," Racetrack said to mumbles and murmurs of agreement. I heard some mutterings coming from behind me in Queens, but they could shove it. Most of them can't fight worth beans, anyway.

Jack looked around at the rest of the newsies before turning to Spot, who did not look very happy with the situation. "So whatta you say, Spot?"

Spot didn't look at Jack. Instead, he gazed around the room, at the clamor of newsies who waited with batted breath (okay so I'm exaggerating, so what?) for his response. Whatever Jack may do and say, Spot Conlon is still Spot Conlon, and Brooklyn holds a lot of power. Spot's gaze briefly flicked to where I was sitting, and my breath caught as I wiggled my way back a litter further into the crowd.

_Please, Spot, please, please, please…_

Spot took a breath before turning to Jack and saying, "_I_ say, dat what _chu_ say," he looked serious and paused for a second before continuing, "is what _I_ say." With that he grinned at Jack. They spit shook to thundering cheers and applause. My knees shook and felt like they would give out; they had turned to mush. I collapsed into a nearby seat as Medda came out to sing for us. Breathing can resume, my heart can stop doing a jig now thanks…

"Hello newsies, what's new?" she laughed. Oh, Medda. Oh, puns. Oh, rallies that roar and crash and make your head buzz from the noise. Everyone cheered. Racetrack was probably the loudest of them all, whistling and yelling her name while waving his hat around. All the newsies – even Queens (that's right I see you) – started singing along with Medda.

"High times, hard times…"

I wandered off towards the bar where Tony was serving drinks. "Can I get some water, please?" I popped up onto a stool and scootched myself around, murmuring a "thank you" as the glass slid down to my end. Absentmindedly I spun the small knife around my neck, watching Medda in her foofy pink dress. How that woman can wear such an outrageous getup is beyond me.

"Hullo." I spun around to see the boy Smokes standing rather comfortably against the wall. His calm black eyes seemed to survey everything around him and yet only me at the same time. They should call him Spooks instead of Smokes.

"H-Hi," I stammered. "Care to sit?" He nodded, flipping his hair out his eyes as he did so, and sat on the worn wooden stool next to me.

"Swiper's sorry she took your necklace, by the way," he said calmly, accepted a root beer from Tony. I snorted.

"Sorry because she genuinely feels bad, or sorry because Spot caught her and she got in trouble with what's-his-face?" Smokes smiled a bit.

"Yoah sharp. The second one," he answered. "Bullet wasn't too happy with her when he found out."

"Smokes! What're ya doin' talkin' to da traitor?" We turned around to see Swiper's surly face glaring at us. Glancing casually at her, it was evident that the girl had no concealed weapons on her, and that she really could use a washing.

"Hullo, Swipy," I said, giving her my own spin on her nickname.

"I don't talk ta dirty traitors like you," she growled. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Traitor? Oh how lovely, I wasn't aware," I said lazily, spinning my glass around.

"Yeah, yoah a traitor ta Spot Conlon!" she spat. "If I had been in yoah place-"

"Ah, but, see, you weren't," I cut her off, starting to become annoyed. "And you really don't know what is going on, so scamper off." I fiddled again with the concealed knife in my necklace. It looks like a pendant, but if you pull the bottom, a nice little two-inch black comes out. Sneaky Renaissance women and their knives.

"Got yoah necklace again?" she asked, becoming arrogant. "Maybe I should take it foah real and give it ta Bul-" She didn't get to finish her sentence, as I was off my stool and behind her in a second. Her head was in a lock and she was pinned before she could mutter another nasty word.

"Now listen here, little girl," I said quietly. "For one, what I was fiddling with was this-" I pulled out the little blade to show her. It was razor sharp. "-And for two, if you want Spot Conlon so bad, go try and win his heart yourself. You couldn't do it if you had a lifetime. Now _get out of my sight._" I let go and she stumbled. Smokes caught her as she gagged and coughed.

"Be seeing you," he said, leading the now cursing girl away. I tipped an imaginary hat at him.

"Augh, can this day get any worse?" I asked the ceiling rhetorically.

_Tweeeeet! Tweeeeet!_ The shrill scream of the Bulls' whistles pierced the air as yells began to echo through the hall. Warden Schneider stumbled backwards as the Bulls poured into the hall. Vaguely I realized that I could hear Medda screaming. Ice water seeped its way through my veins as the Bulls waved their batons around. Whistles continued to split the dusty air as newsies yelled and scrambled for the exits, any exit. Glass broke behind me as Tony presumably made his escape from the hall. Pandemonium was all around me as I stood, rooted to the spot where I had just put another kid in a headlock not two seconds ago. And now, in two seconds, everything was chaos.

The harsh crash of wood on wood brought me around to my senses. An officer was chasing a young boy towards the bar. Hastily I brought out the knife from my left arm. As the boy got closer, his breath harsh and ragged, I dragged him out of the way and behind a pillar. The officer swore as his baton crashed onto a stool.

"Get out of here, run!" I yelled, shoving him away. The boy scrambled away and through a door. _F*, f*, f*, f*, fffffffff!_ Now I had an irate officer on my hands and no clue where to go. Glancing over my shoulder revealed that Jack was also in trouble. It was satisfying to see David kick Schneider in the face, though.

Terse swearing came from behind me as the officer righted himself, redirecting his aim to the scrap of a kid that had tripped him. Hellooooo trouble. With a capitol, embossed and italicized _oh God ruuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn internal monologue shut the hell up!_ I ducked and darted around to the other side of the bar as Officer Un-Happy Pants came after me. Punches were flying everywhere as the unmistakable thud of fists on flesh and batons on flesh reverberated through the theater.

Tripping on an empty bottle, I crashed into the stools on the opposite side of the bar. Struggling to get a knife out, I twisted between the stools. The officer raised his baton and came closer. Desperately I kicked out with both feet, knocking him back a few feet. He wheezed as I kept trying to free a knife, but I was all tangled up in the stupid stools. How in the hell do you get stuck between stools in less than a second and then not able to get out for at least ten? Gritting my teeth, I did what no self-respecting street-fighter likes doing: I yelled for help.

The cry was lost in the din surrounding me. The officer grabbed my ankle to drag me out, but I kicked him in the face with my other one. Swearing, he covered his eye. He raised his baton – presumably to break a leg – and collapsed to the ground.

Spot stood behind the officer, steely eyed and gripping his cane like a weapon. He looked with disgust at the Bull he had just knocked unconscious. Another one yelled and charged from behind him. As I opened my mouth to warn him, Spot whirled around and thumped the Bull in the stomach with his cane. Spot then proceeded to apply his right fist to the officer's face and then his left to a blow below the officer's belt.

"Gimme yoah hand!" Spot yelled. I didn't think, just took the hand that had become slowly more familiar. Grasping the callused palm, I could almost forget that we were still mad at each other. Spot hauled me out of the bar and through the crowd, occasionally thumping people out of the way. He growled under his breath when we got caught in the middle of three Bulls in the hallway. "Stay at my back, an' don't do anything reckless."

"Reckless?" I grinned, my back to his. "Reckless is my middle name!" I pulled out two knives and spun them around once, facing the Bull in front of me. One with a mustache. Ew.

"I was knew you'd say that," Spot muttered. I shrugged.

"Sorry," I muttered. Then we both proceeded to beat the crap out of the offenders. Gotta hand it to Spot, he's slick, dealing with two Bulls at once. For my own part I just cut his belt off and knocked off his cap before knocking him out. Done, Spot tugged me further down the hallway.

"Go out this door," Spot said, shoving me through a side door that led to an alley.

"What about-"

"Don't argue, just do it," Spot hissed. "I've gotta go back an' help Cowboy an' da others." A crash came from the main entrance hall. Spot looked over his shoulder and then back at me. He took his hat off and shoved it on my head. "Now you'll look like a kid. Get out of heah!"

Spot was gone before I could drag him with me. Besides, he'd never have gone, that was just how he was. He'd never let anyone down if he could help it, and he never let girls get hurt.

I ducked around the alley to the other side of the theater and took off for the lodging out. Out of breath and paranoid about being followed, I went inside. There would be no going back to Brooklyn tonight. Reaching up, I remember that I still had Spot's hat on. The faded material was well worn and smelled like Spot. Refusing to cry, I stumbled over to the bottom of the stairs and collapsed, my head on my knees.

A while later Lark was shaking me awake.

"Get up, Artemis," she murmured. "Big news."

"Wha-?" I blinked. Almost everyone was in the hallway. Everyone except… "Where's Jack?"

"Taken in by da Bulls." The answer came not from Racetrack, as I would have expected, but from another Manhattan boy. "David's off wit' Denton ta try an' get 'em. Out. Cowboy an' Racetrack an' Spot an' de others."

"Oh," I said, feeling very much stupid and out of the loop.

"C'mon. Let's get you upstairs. I'll let you know if we can bust 'em out or not." Lifting my gently by the arm, Lark led me upstairs. I collapsed onto the first bunk she showed me. Cigars. The bunk smelled like cigars. This was Racetrack's bunk. Stubbornly shutting my eyes, I gripped Spot's hat harder.

_Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in_

_Are you aware the shape I'm in_

_My hands they shake my head it spins_

_Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in_

_When at first I learned to speak_

_I used all my words to fight_

_With him and her and you and me_

_Oh but its just a waste of time_

_Yeah its such a waste of time…_

_

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_**So, um, I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I know it wasn't worth the wait. :P **

**Sorry I can't respond to all the lovely reviews I got - and there were so many! - but I hope you'll review this chapter. The next one should be up much more quickly. Also, I know it's not the end of the story yet, but I must ask: what would you think about a sequel to this? It would take place after the rally of course, during the holiday season most likely. More bets, action, etc of course.**

**Love,**

**Saya**


	17. Kaleidoscope

**...Hello there!...well now, was that nice? Yes, yes, I haven't been here in forever, etc etc etc. Shush for a minute and read!**

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**Ch 17 – Kaleidoscope**

You know those really disturbing dreams, that aren't nightmares 'cause they're scary, they're nightmares because of how real they feel?

Yeah, I don't like those, either.

Everyone was cautious and edgy the morning after the rally. Racetrack and the rest had come back in the middle of the night – or maybe it was really early morning – but still no Jack. David reported that he was being held in the Refuge. Lark had told me that Crutchy had also been taken there a while ago. When she had told me, all I could think was "Stupid idiots, can't you even look out for yourselves?" But now I just kind of wondered how long kids lasted there before they went completely mental.

Groaning – everything felt sore – I got up off of the couch in the entrance. When Race had come back, I had promptly removed myself from the premises and gone to sleep downstairs. A few of the Brooklynites had camped out there, too, apparently separated in the chaos that was last night. Finding one of the runners, I handed Spot's hat off to the kid and went in search of breakfast. As grateful as I am to Spot for getting me out, there is no way in hell I am going to Brooklyn to return his hat right now. Stupid git.

After filching an apple off of a fruit stand while the owner debated politics, I determined that it would be a rather useless thing for me to stay here in Manhattan. Did I really count as a newsie anymore? David certainly wasn't in charge of me. Cowboy had authority over everyone here, and David was kind of a second-in-command who wasn't entirely sure what he was doing in this revolution. Maybe they'd be a Tibby's and I could just check myself out of here. Lark would know what to do.

The bell chiming was the loudest source of noise as I walked into the restaurant. Denton was saying something as David stood by a table. Quickly I slipped to the back where Lark was watching everything with guarded eyes. Slipping her a note, I left through the back.

Snickering around the corner made my body automatically stop and sneak to the corner. The Delancey brothers were lounging against the wall right outside the alley. The only exit to the alley besides, of course, going straight back through the restaurant full of apprehensive and possibly angered newsies…uh…..well. I put my hair up in my cap and hoped for the best.

No dice.

The Delanceys leered and guffawed as I tried to inconspicuously walk out of the alley. They jeered, calling out rude things that would make the nicest, most sincerely devout nun in the world want to beat them with a pew. Ok, maybe not _that_ bad, but bad enough that my temper flared. I looked at them from under my cap and shoved my fists into pockets. They leered and generally degraded Manhattan – and others, but mostly Manhattan – as I stood in the alley, blocked by the two buffoons.

"An' next we'll get Conlon," one of them was saying. That's when my wandering mind wandered back to attention.

"In your _dreams,_" I hissed through clenched teeth. That wrinkled their stupid squirrel faces.

"Wanna say that again?"

"Oh, didn't hear me?" I asked in a falsely cheery voice, glaring daggers at the mustache. "_In. Your. Dreams._ Pus face."

As one of them swung I dodged, then ran forward and rammed my fist just under his solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping for air, I did the same to the second and high tailed it out of there, mentally apologizing to Manhattan for the hell they would probably get now. Ah, bugger. But no point in sticking around and fighting, really.

Now to find the apartment…eur…

_Work tonight until 7:30 – then we BOTH have work at 9. Dockside. Don't be late. –Ben_

The note on the table was the only thing to greet me back in the apartment. It was also a nice reminder that, yes, there would be a rather lovely distraction from all this nonsense. A distraction that would require all my concentration, uh, skills…yeah…..Underneath the note were the clothes I would be wearing later. The top set was a pair of snug black pants, a sleeveless black shirt, mask, and slipper-shoes. The bottom set was a slightly formal dress. A blond wig sat next to the pile. Oh goody, I get to play the dumb blond later after committing burglary! Woo! (/sarcasm.)

Trying to be smooth even though no one's around, I attempted to swipe the clothes up and off the table. Halfway succeeding, the clothes were lifted…as were several books. They landed with a rather lovely thud that reminded the imbecile who dropped them that yes, they were _slightly old and valuable._ That is to say, _they could be a museum. Gah._

Bending over to pick up the top one, it was open to a page showing a diagram of the human body in several different positions (no not that kind). Underneath one was the caption "Standing Meditation." I flipped over to the cover: _Tai Chi Principles, Volume I._ Alright Brett, when were you ever doing Tai Chi? As I continued to read the descriptions, I walked to my room and automatically started to mimic them. Standing with my knees square under my shoulders, my hands lightly folded in front of my stomach, knees bent, I shut my eyes. Reflections and vague shapes passed my eyelids. Sunlight from the window played across the blackness, occasionally summoning up persons or thoughts. Faces started to show themselves as I knew them, and in other expressions. Memories floated up, twined between each other, and disappeared again. Worries, concerns, thoughts – one by one they came and went. Mostly the people who appeared just kind of looked at me and then left.

Several hours must have passed, because the next thing I knew, Ben was walking in and shouting if I was home. Blearily I blinked open my eyes to see my room was dark.

"In here, Ben!" I yelled, shaking out my limbs. Surprisingly, they weren't tired at all. Guess I did something right?

"What are you – oh. You found a book, huh?" Ben grinned. He waggled his eyebrows. "Arty knows how to read! Huzzah! Did you read my note?"

"Yes I read your note you dolt! Why'd you pull out the blond wig?"

Ben raised his eyebrows. "Would you rather be a red-head?" I wrinkled my nose.

"No, thank you."

"Then you're playing the blonde. Snap to it."

"Where are we going?" I asked as Ben went back to the main room.

"Some party-majiger. Then another one. Address for you is on the back," he called back. "You get to grab some food and then run. I'm staying to socialize."

"How do you find these things?" I asked, voice slightly muffled by the shirt I was pulling over my head.

"I have connections! Are you done yet?"

"_You_ try putting on a dress and tell me how long it takes, wise guy!"

"No thanks, I'm not into that." I snickered to myself.

"Whatever you say!"

"Do I have to put you in a box?"

"No! No boxes will be necessary! I'm done now anyway," I grumbled, coming out. "Help me with this wig? And what shoes should I wear?"

"Yes. And the blue ones." Ben took the longhaired wig and put it on the table. "Sit." He pointed to a chair. I sat, careful not to muss the dress, which was a pretty shade of light blue. Thankfully it wasn't too stuffy. Carefully Ben pulled my hair back and twisted it into a ponytail at the base of my neck, pinning my bangs out of my face. Then he took the wig and placed the front low on my forehead, slowly pulling it back until it covered the rest of my hair. Deftly he tucked the ponytail inside the wig and rearranged the hair so that it fell naturally. I blew up at the bangs hanging on either side of my face. The wig fell about to the middle of my back in blond ringlets, with long bangs in the front. With it on, I looked like a different person. I looked like a _girl._ The horror!

As I tried to stand up to find the shoes, Ben pushed me back down. "I'm not done yet," he said. "You're not feminine enough yet."

"I'm wearing a dress!" I huffed. "How much more _feminine_ can you get?"

"Stay!" Ben called from a closet somewhere. I glared in his general direction.

"I'm not a dog," I muttered under my breath.

"Alright, here we go." I closed my eyes dutifully as Ben applied a touch of eye make up. "There. You're properly pretty-ified now. Open." I opened my eyes to stare straight at Ben's brown eyes. He grinned. I stuck out my tongue.

"Okay, okay. I'm going to find the shoes." Ben put his hand on my shoulder.

"Spot's really missing out, y'know," he said gently. I stared at the floor to my left.

"Ben, can we not talk about this right now?"

"Sure." He gave me a hug. The smell of spices and bread dough that seemed to perpetually cling to him nowadays was comforting in its simplicity and familiarity. "Now, the shoes might be in a box in the closet. Go look, I'm going to get dressed."

Finding the shoes, I wobbled for a second, getting used to the small heel. Ben came out a minute later, dressed rather dapperly (for him, anyway) in brown pants, vest, white shirt, and brown jacket. A fake silver chain ran from the corner of one pocket to the other.

"All ready?" I nodded. "Let's go. I've got a carriage waiting."

"Oh, wait." Ben looked at me questioningly. "Can I have a snack?"

**Brooklyn Lodging House, evening**

Sparks wandered around from room to room, bored silly and – if she would admit it – more than slightly worried. Artemis was still missing – even if Emotions said she had decided to transfer back to Manhattan – and that alone was cause enough for worry. Spot got rather pig-headed in her opinion when he didn't have someone to keep him in check about his ego.

Wandering back downstairs, Sparks heard Pilot, Pirate, and Spot discussing the situation back in Manhattan. With Jack still out of the picture, there was rather a bit of chaos. Sparks sat on the stairs and watched as their faces became more intense in their concentration. Her eyes fluttered shut, before lifting heavily back up. Before the girl knew it, she was asleep against the railing.

"Sparks, wake up." A boy was shaking her awake. Sparks grumbled. She would soak the bum that dared wake her. "Sparks, c'mon, ya can't sleep heah on da stairs."

Spark glared sleepily up at…Pilot. Pilot was shaking her awake. Sparks barely registered the slightly faster heartbeat she felt, it had become so common around Pilot. Maybe it was a good thing Artemis wasn't there, she'd only complicate things.

"What'd'ya want? What's goin' on?" She rubbed her eyes. Pilot sat down quietly next to her on the steps.

"Well, we're goin' back to Manhattan tomorrow," Pilot said. His warmth and calm voice were a welcome presence. "An' den Spot will probably sort things out, an' we'll try an' get Jack back." Sparks nodded, drifting off again. Pilot looked at her and grinned. He didn't usually laugh, just kind of smiled. "Let's get you to bed, princess."

Sparks reddened. "I'm no princess," she muttered, aware that Pilot was lifting her rather easily by the arms. "Get off, I can walk!" She stumbled up half the stairs before Pilot was supporting her again.

"Yuh-huh. Sure." At the top of the stairs, in front of the girls' room, Pilot turned Sparks to look at him. "Y'know, you could be a princess if you wanted to," he said quietly, but seriously. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he left with a simple "G'night."

Sparks stood there, dumbfounded and holding her forehead for a minute before realization hit her. Her eyes popped open and she reddened before quickly going into the room and shutting the door rather forcefully. Standing against the wall by the door, Sparks slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Emotions found her there, asleep with a smile on her face, a little while later. Smiling to herself, Emotions hauled the sleepy girl over to her bunk and covered her with a blanket.

**Artemis POV**

The carriage pulled up to a semi-ritzy looking townhouse that was well lit from the inside. Several other carriages had also pulled up, and young men and women – as well as several chaperones – were stepping out into the warm summer night. The docks were still visible, as this house sat atop a small hill with its neighbors. That was what "dockside" had meant in the note. Later, after I'd left for the other job, I could find my way home.

Ben helped me out of the carriage and onto the cobblestones. Not entirely to walking about in high heels, I wobbled a little on the stone steps. A warm hand grasped my elbow. As I turned, Spot's name on my lips, I was greeted my cheery green eyes under a mop of blond hair.

"Steady there," the mop murmured. "Can't have any of our pretty ladies falling over before the party's even started. Why, I haven't even had the chance to use my charms." Then he winked.

I knew – my character knew – what I was supposed to do. Covering my mouth with one gloved hand, I giggled. "Thank you, kind sir," I breathed. "Pray tell, what is the name of my hero?"

We were at the top of the stairs now, and being bowed through the front door. For all the pomp that was being played out, this was really only a meeting of upper-middle class merchants who had been lucky enough to catch a break. Over the shoulder of my would-be flirt I saw a brunette girl in a white dress step down from a black carriage. She looked familiar…her name wanted to make itself present in my mind, but all that was coming up was "Icky."

"Charles McKinley. But please, call me Charlie. Charles is so…stuffy. Is something the matter, miss?" Charlie looked over his shoulder at the last of the incoming carriages. I suppose something like horror dawned on my face as I realized where I had seen that girl before: selling papers. She and her two floozy friends had been teasing me, and then Spot…Spot had…

"Quite alright, Mr. McKinley," I said with a flutter of my eyelashes and a smile. "I'm just dreadfully tired from the heat."

"My fair maiden, you are a horrible flirt, if I may be so rude," Charlie said with a smirk. "And really, please call me Charlie. 'Mr. McKinley' is my father, and every time I hear someone call his name I swear I could go hide under my little brother's bed." I giggled for real this time before pouting at him.

"But I do try _so_ hard to learn from the other girls," I sniffled.

"Perhaps you should learn from the newsboys who congregate at the docks," he said mildly. I stiffened. Taking it as the stiffening of a well brought up girl who has been offended, Charlie hastily backpedaled. "Beg pardon, I meant no offence." His green eyes turned to mine, full of worry. My lips pressed into a thin smile.

"None taken."

"What is that one cheeky boy, I see him flirting all the time with all the girls. Speck? Sport?"

"Spot," I said flatly. "Spot Conlon."

"Ah yes. Bit of a braggart, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know," I replied coolly. "I try not to associate myself with braggarts and street boys. They don't offer enough fun." Sniff, sniff. Someone's cooking something delicious in this house.

"Maybe you and I can have a little fun together later?" He bowed and produced a flower from his sleeve. My alter ego giggled and shyly accepted it, holding it to my nose to sniff. Some sort of generic white flower for these kinds of things.

"Maybe we can. Where are you off to?"

"My father is calling me, so I must away for now. But do not fret, I shall return like the summer breeze." It sounded like he was trying to quote Shakespeare or mimic him and failing. With that, though, he thankfully walked away to a man in a suit. Charlie was sweet, but kind of stupid and annoy at the same time. Boys are weird.

"There's my little sister," Ben called out.

"I thought you promised me some _food_?" I hissed through clenched teeth while smiling prettily as two elderly women approached us. "I'm not _really_ your little sister, silly," I said more loudly.

"In a minute I'll lead you to the food," he whispered, turning to face the ladies. They both wore these dreadfully stuffy looking hats with feathers on the top. Then, more loudly, "Madams, may I introduce you to Miss Elizabeth James? My brother is Miss James's tutor. Unfortunately, he doesn't attend social events very often."

"Mr. McCreary tells us you are an accomplished dancer," the one in the purple said. (She really shouldn't be wearing purple, or at least not _that_ shade. Dear God, why was anyone ever allowed to make that color? I think I just died inside. Do you hear that? That's the sound of my soul dying.) She looked me over carefully, like I was a horse and she was a buyer. But of course, Miss Elizabeth James wouldn't see that.

"Would you care for a demonstration, Madam…?" I smiled for her.

The second one snapped her fan shut. Charlie was over in a flash.

"Yes, Grandmother?" he asked the lady in yellow. (She shouldn't be wearing that, either. Tsk.)

"Dance with this young lady here. We wish to see if her skills are up to par," Purple Dowager said.

"But of course," Charlie said with a bow. Then he bowed to me and offered his arm. I curtsied and smiled, accepting his "offer." The music picked up a lively tune, something that would make all the young people step to.

"Do you know the steps?" I asked coolly. Charlie smirked.

"But of course. What kind of overbearing grandmother would she be if she didn't make me learn how to trip over myself gracefully?" I laughed into my gloved hand.

"Well then, let's 'hop to'!"

The music whirled us around the dance floor, exchanging partners before coming back to the first. Skirts flashed and spun as jewelry glinted in the lamplight. When we were together Charlie complemented me on my form, or told small jokes to make me laugh. He was a good partner. He made my play-acting of making this all look easy easier. I hardly felt the uncomfortable shoes as boys spun me around again and again. At last the song ended and a waltz started up. My specialty…Ben nodded from across the room for me to continue for a little while longer. Charlie dutifully and politely escorted me around the room. As we passed the Dowager Pair we both put on our most perfect form. _Finally_ the damn song ended and we were both allowed to return to the side. Accepting the fan Ben offered, I gently fanned myself, as if whirling around for ten minutes hadn't just sapped my strength. Which reminds me that Ben owes me food.

"Madams?" I asked with a curtsy.

"She'll do. If we are unable to find another suitable young mademoiselle, we shall call for you at the address you listed," Purple Peacock proclaimed. They snapped their fans together and left.

"Perhaps we could enjoy a dance together later, when we're not being graded on our performance Miss…?" Charlie offered.

"Miss James. Elizabeth James," I smiled. "And I think would enjoy that very much." I winked for good measure. Charlie, too, made his exit. I whirled on Ben. "_Food. Now._"

"Alright, alright, don't eat me," Ben surrendered. "This way." He led us to a separate, quiet room. A long table ran down the center, covered in a pristine while tablecloth and varieties of little "finger foods." I spotted some chocolate covered strawberries and tiny tea sandwiches. On a separate table by the back wall was water, some sort of punch, tea and coffee. All the chairs had been removed, except from the tiny tables in nooks along the walls.

Turning to leave, Ben slipped a note into my hand, which I carefully tucked into a pocked in my dress. Picking up a gold-rimmed plate, I perused the selections. Of course, the strawberries were a must. To deny them would be…would be…really bad. That is all. After gathering other, more _filling_ foods, I sat at a small table by the back with my food and water. Punch was horrible before missions. Made you thirstier halfway through. Tea and coffee made me wired half the time, which would not be helpful. I slipped the note out and shielded it with my cup to read it.

_Upstairs. Master bedroom, third on left. Bathroom second on right. No known tricks. Small box, shiny inside. Take the rose._

So my job was to get upstairs to the master bedroom an lift a small piece of jewelry, probably a necklace or bracelet, with a rose charm. Ben did not know of any locks or guard dogs in place. Still, it never hurt to be careful. The small pouch with the lock picks pressed comfortingly against my thigh. Time to move.

Finding someone who was working the party, I asked where there might be a water closet that I could appropriate for a minute or two. The helpful young man informed me that while the bathrooms on this floor were occupied at the moment, there was one on the second floor if I was in a rush. Bingo. A small tip made sure that if anyone asked, the young man would tell them I had gone to relieve myself. Slipping up the stairs like I had every right to be there – which I still did at this point – I found the bathroom and walked one door past it to the master bedroom. There really were no tricks to be seen. No slips of paper stuck in the crack of the door, no dust along the box, nothing fell from the top of the door when opened, not even a small lapdog on the bed. Nor had the door been locked. Tsk. How was I supposed to become a master thief if no one ever challenged me? I removed my shoes and left them by the door where no one would see were someone to come up here.

The box on the table was rather simple in design. Made of wood with a few vine patterns carved into the top and sides, there was a simple lock. The key was probably attached to a necklace around some lady's neck in this house. Slipping out a pick, it took only a twist and a push for the top to pop open. Music to my ears. I paused, hearing someone come up the stairs. They came closer to the door. Picking up my skirts, I rushed to hide behind the door. There I waited, hardly breathing, my heart pounding in my throat as the footsteps stopped nearby. Another door clicked open. So they were just going to use the bathroom. I waited a moment more, listening for anyone else. Breathing a sigh of relief as they finally left and returned to the party downstairs.

Returning to the box, I rummaged around to find the object I was looking for. A pretty little trinket, like something you'd buy for a lover at a shop if you didn't have much. For something that looked so out of place among the finer pieces, it was rather well made. The chain was thin and silver, not nickel, and the rose itself was delicate with little petals painted pink and red spiraling out from a silver middle. I didn't remember the exact story behind this piece. It had belonged to someone else, and then they had to sell it, and it floated around to end up here. Ah, well. If they complained of missing _this_…tough. Hopefully whomever it came from will do a better job of holding onto it this time.

Shuffling back to the door, the necklace in my pocket, I put my shoes back on and returned to the party. The whole job had taken less than five minutes, including the time it took to put everything back into place. Ben was chatting in a corner. He saw me come down the stairs and smiled before turning his back to face someone else.

Slipping out the front door was easy. Other people were coming and going, either leaving the party entirely, or just getting something they forgot in their carriage. The one we had arrived in was dutifully waiting at the end of the line, the driver reading a paper. The sight made something in my chest twinge, and I wondered where he had gotten that paper, if maybe someone had risked Spot's wrath because they needed to support their family.

There was a bag under the back seat that held my next "costume." Gone now was Elizabeth James as the necklace was wrapped in a handkerchief and deposited into the box under the front seat. (All this organization? All Ben's doing.) As the fancy dress came off and a plain skirt, shirt, and shawl replaced it, I became just another servant girl out on a late errand. With the party going on and this neighborhood, no one would question a longhaired brunette with a covered basket. For all they know, I'm out to investigate the cause of the noise. Disguise intact, I left the carriage and headed out to the next hit site.

_It's always been about me, myself and I_

_ I thought relationships were nothing but a waste of time_

_ I never wanted to be anybody's other half_

_ I was happy saying I had love that wouldn't last_

_ That was the only way I knew…_

**Earlier**

"Hey Spot! Hey! Hey Spot! Spooooooot!"

Spot rolled his eyes and kept walking. There was only one person he could think of that would be so positively…persistent…at getting his attention. Well, two, but Spot wasn't going to think about that right now.

"Whadaya want, Jinx?" he asked without looking. The kid would soon be trotting along next to his right shoulder in three…two…

"I got yer hat from some lady at da 'Hattan House. She said ta give it to ya. So I came here ta find ya. And I did!" Jinx's mop of shockingly red hair bounced next to Spot's right shoulder, as it always did whenever the two interacted. His bright blue eyes gleamed in triumph at a job well done. No one really knew which borough Joker's Jinx – as the kid had been dubbed – belonged to, but it was mutually agreed that he was welcome to sell wherever he showed up.

"You think dat every girl's a lady, Jinx," Spot said, smirking slightly. "Ya wanna give me a better description? Was she pretty?" Spot already knew the answer he would get.

"She was pretty," Jinx said solemnly. "Short brown hair, green eyes, about my height. Definitely not from 'Hattan House though. Felt more like Brooklyn." Spot was glad for his muscle control, else wise his face would have betrayed several different emotions at Jinx's short description of Artemis. A tiny part of him had hoped that, if given his hat, she would have to come return it herself. Although that had been stupid thinking, on several accounts, after all-

"Or maybe Queens."

Spot stopped in his tracks, his train of thought ground to a screeching halt. Jinx stopped automatically, lost in thought about where the girl might have been from.

"Thanks for my hat back, Jinx," Spot said in clipped tones, adjusting it back onto his head. Jinx nodded and trotted off, lost in thought.

_One foot in and one foot back._

_ But it don't pay to live like that._

Queens. _Queens._ Like Artemis would go off and join _Queens_. She had been running from them, that one time. Spot's eyes flashed at the thought, and several pedestrians moved out of his way.

_So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks._

_ For never to return._

No, she'd stay in Brooklyn, or maybe in Manhattan. Or wherever that place was that Emotions had said. Emotions…she had put a note in Spot's pocket. A pocket in a different shirt, thankfully.

Whatever. It wasn't Spot's place to question what people did once they left the newsies. Once they left him.

_That woman she's got eyes that shine._

_ Like a pair of stolen polished dimes._

_ She asked to dance I said it's fine._

Spot ground his teeth together ever so slightly. Where was Jack when Spot needed him? Surely the Walking Mouth and the others could come up with something, Spot's plate was full enough just trying to manage Manhattan.

Maybe he'd go for a walk through the docks later.

* * *

**So this was originally going to be a much longer chapter since I haven't updated in forever, but this was a good point to stop at and the rest that I had written wasn't fitting in a nicely as I would like. So. Half (ish) of the next chapter is written...whenever that gets posted. Eurk.**

**Thanks ever so much for the reviews! I'm now going to answer some repeat questions:**

**1. The song! Congrats to all of you who recognized it as the Abette Brothers' _I and Love and You._ Now, who can guess the two songs used in this chapter? Hint: one of them is the above mentioned.**

**2. Am I writing based off a past experience? Yes and no. Do I have experience with boys/romance? Yes. Can I fight? Oh heck no! XD Also, I have given Artemis some of my sassyness. That is a word now! :P**

**3. When's the next chapter going up?...some time**

**4. PIRATE. Man, so many of you seem to really like PiratexArtemis. ( O w O );; Well, you'll see what Pirate's up to. Calm down.**

**5. I think some people have been asking about whether or not Spot knows who Artemis is, in regard to the past. WELL NOW. Who knows? ;)**

**Much love as always, Saya**


	18. Alley Cat

**Hellooooo there. *Blows dust off of ff account.* Hmm, this appears to be a new chapter. How strange! That hasn't happened in forever, I know. But the life of a pre-vet student demands sacrifice. And by sacrifice I mean "NO SLEEP FOR YOU." FFFFfffff...**

**Enjoy! You guys deserve it.**

* * *

**Ch. 18 – Alley Cat**

**North Street, Brooklyn, approximately 9 o'clock p.m.**

Getting into houses was usually the easy part. A quick slip into a nearby alley, and my disguise was off, leaving me with just the close fitting black clothes used for breaking and entering. Padded, slipper-like shoes covered my feet and a black mask covered all but my eyes, keeping my hair out of the way. A ladder, tree, or ornate windows made for good climbing. Although considering how out of shape I am…

_The scars of your love they leave me breathless_…

Jobs like this always gave me time to think. No one in the house, everything was quiet, and all that required focus was finding the object. In this case, a photograph and a ring. Usually these kinds of things were kept in bedrooms, although the photograph might be displayed somewhere.

Padding through the first story of the town house, it was easy to see that someone had money. Who this someone was, I didn't know. I never asked until after the job, unless it was a really weird request. Photographs were proudly displayed around an ornate fireplace. Scanning them I found the one I was looking to not be present. A winding staircase near the back of the house led up to a simple hallway of closed doors. Pausing before the first, I listened before entering. Three more wrong doors later and I found the master bedroom.

Opposite the bed was a dresser with more pictures on it. None of them were the right one, either. I frowned. The damn thing had to be here. I hate it when people lie about what they want just to mess with me. Quickly I began to sift through the clothes in the dresser, careful to put them back as I found them. People hide the weirdest things in clothes. I've found money, jewelry, an old doll, teeth…and now here was the photograph and ring! The photograph showed a young couple, and the ring was set with a small sapphire. Neither could be very old, as the photograph wasn't even really worn around the edges and the ring still looked like it was worn once in a while.

I placed them in the small bag around my neck and left the house through the servants' door that opened into the alley. My basket was still there, it's cover untouched. An alley cat that had curled up next to it blinked blearily at me before covering its nose with its tail.

**Several blocks away, around 8:30 p.m.**

Spot smushed his hat down onto his head. This night he didn't particularly care if he caught girls' eyes or not. Pilot was downstairs in the main room of the lodging house, in control for the night. With a quick wave and a nod Spot was off into the streets. His temper was slightly up, thanks to some idiot at the docks earlier who had splashed him while aiming for Pirate. A change in shirts had remedied the wet problem, but Spot was still miffed. Perhaps a walk around the docks was _not_ the best idea tonight.

As his feet started walking – Spot was never worried about getting lost or wandering into another territory – his mind started to drift. This summer had been crazier than usual. True, someone was always threatening to strike, just because the heat sucked and tempers got short. Luckily whenever a Brooklynite muttered something rebellious Spot could just dunk them in the river. But to actually _have_ a strike, much less to be at the center of the attention half the time…it was rather overwhelming. But none of Spot's newsies could know that. Emotions had probably picked up on it, and maybe –

Spot felt something crinkly poking at his chest through his shirt pocket. Reaching in he pulled out a folded piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. Even though he'd never seen her handwriting, Spot knew that it had been written by –

His feet kept walking through Brooklyn, picking at random alleyways to cut through, or streets to turn on. A quick stop to flirt with a late selling flower girl had Spot wandering off again in another direction.

Spot stopped unexpectedly in front of a row of shops. All the bottom halves of the building were shops, while the tops were homes. Most of them were dark. Spot took out the piece of paper again and looked at it. Well, the street was right, but why had he come here? Off he started walking again.

Those that could afford it kept their homes cool and clean, a reprieve from the New York City heat. Some were even hosting other families. Spot turned his nose up at the cheap vanity of the row houses, able to see the docks, but not know what really went on down there. Light spilled out of an open doorway, illuminating several figures. A dame in a dress, her man, and another gentleman ghosting along behind them left the racket that echoed onto the street. Spot pulled his hat down a little more and walked closer to the street.

The young man by himself was headed Spot's way, smirking to himself and generally looking very pleased. Spot knew from his own…experience on the street that looks like that only came with a price attached. Spot looked him over from under his hat as he lazily spun his cane. He'd guess the man was around 20, with cropped blond hair in faint disarray around his head – points to him, Spot knew girls like it better if it was a little messy. Brown eyes over a straight nose calmly took in his surroundings, while his mouth in turn smiled or sneered at the frippery. He was taller than Spot, and…looking at him?

"You there," he said calmly, as if there were no one else around and _of course_ Spot would listen to him, which only caused Spot to bristle and glower. Did this stupid, stuck up snob not know who he was? He waved his hand for Spot to come closer. When Spot remained where he was, the young man rolled his eyes and walked over.

"The name's Ben, Ben McCreary. I have a job for you to do," he said when he stopped two feet from Spot. Spot glared. "Yes, yes, glare and glower. Ohhh, so scary. Put the childish act away and pay attention. My younger sister is going to be in need of an escort any minute now."

Spot's guard was still up, but he was interested. "Yoah sister?" he asked. "And why would I 'escort' yoah sister?"

"Because I told you to, and you have a soft spot for her," Ben answered simply, leaning into the carriage they stood next to. He pulled out a cloth bag with something in it. "Now, this needs to be delivered to Artemis at number twenty-six, North Street. Hop to it, she should be there already."

"You want me to take that to _who?_" Spot demanded. If he had been a dog he would've growled.

"Artemis. Blake. I think you know the girl; she's been working for you for a few months now, hasn't she? You know, about yay high," Ben held his hand at the height of Spot's nose, "brown hair, green eyes, bit of a temper, and made that bet with the one they call Cowboy?"

**North Street, around 9:05 p.m., Artemis POV**

"Move over kitty," I crooned. The cat only purred as I tried to push its bottom over. "Or not. That's…fine too?"

I pulled back the cover of my basket and placed the neck bag inside. Someone would be very pleased to see the contents again, and someone would be sorely missing them. Or not. Sometimes I got another job by doing the first. Such is life. Someone will give in eventually.

Moving aside the rest of the contents, I looked to the bottom of the basket to find my next set of clothing, which was…not…there?

**Between 8:30 and 9 o'clock pm, Spot POV**

"Thanks, but no thanks," Spot spat. "I don't do favors for those who betray Brooklyn's trust." He turned on his heel to walk away and was promptly spun back around and slammed into the carriage's side. The horse in the front snorted at the noise. Suddenly Ben's face was right in Spot's, brown eyes snapping. His fist still gripped Spot's shirt, and his arm was diagonal across Spot's chest.

"Look here, _Spot_," Ben sneered the nickname, and it had never sounded more childish. "Frankly I don't give a _damn_ about you, or Brooklyn, or this little strike you're all playing at. I don't even really care if Artemis gets this package by you, or the one they call Pirate, or not at all. She's a good girl and can take care of herself. But you _will_ give this to her, you _will_ escort her home, and you _will_ take your head _out of your ass_ and behave like a gentleman. _Do I make myself clear?_" The words were growled in such a low tone that doubtless only Spot and Ben heard.

"_What_ did you just tell me to do?" Spot growled back, bewildered.

His own signature smirk was mirrored at him as Ben drawled, "I just told you to grow up, kid. Yoah jus' mad cuz my li'l sister played da game better'n you. Now, off you go." Ben's fist finally unclenched from Spot's shirt and the bag was shoved into his chest instead. With that, Ben sauntered back around and into the carriage. A cluck from the driver later, and the carriage was pulling out of sight.

_Hell!_ Thought Spot, who was left standing on the dark sidewalk with a bag whose contents were unknown, and whose owner he had to find. Find, and act civil to. And then escort home…alone…on the dark streets of Brooklyn…Alright, where was this thought going? Spot could easily handle anyone who would give them trouble at this time of night. Artemis wouldn't even have to muss one hair of her head, although she probably would. Spot scratched his head before slinging the bag over his back and walking off.

_It ain't polite ta keep a goil waitin'_, he kept telling himself. _And it ain't safe for a goil to be walkin' around Brooklyn late at night, either._

An alley cat yelled somewhere off to Spot's right before racing out from behind the house in front of him.

Oh, who was Spot kidding?

Swearing – in what sounded like another language – echoed out of the alley. Spot stopped at the mouth of the alley and planted his feet.

"Artemis?" Spot called. The swearing stopped. Spot could see the outline of a silhouette, outlined by the far street's lights. The figure moved into a half crouch, as if it were either about to attack, or run.

"Who is it?" Artemis's voice called out warily.

"It's me," Spot replied.

" 'Me' who? There are a lot of 'me's in the world, myself included." Something in Spot's chest loosened a tick at the semi-playful response.

"Spot Conlon." A hesitation, as the silhouette slowly straightened itself.

"Yeah? And what do you want here?" Was it Spot's imagination, or was there a double meaning behind her words? Aw hell, Artemis was a girl, there was always a double meaning!

"Yoah brother sent me to deliver dis," Spot said, lifting the bag from his shoulder. He could see Artemis's shoulders fall in relief in response.

"Throw it here, then." A hand gestured for the bag. Measuring the weight, Spot threw. There was a faint _whump_ noise as it was caught. "Alright, now shoo. Don't watch me."

Spot moved from the mouth of the alley and leaned against the next house. He scanned up and down the street before asking, "So what were ya doin' here?"

There was a muffled reply.

"What?"

"Burglaring! Theiving!" came a shout. "Why are you still here?"

Spot glared at the corner of the alley. "Yoah dear brother told me to be a gentleman an' escort you home." More muttering and swearing in something other than English, with a little English mixed in.

Shoes clacked on cobblestone as a girl stepped out of the alley, carrying a covered basket on her arm.

"Well," she said, flipping back her long brown hair and smoothing out the pale green of her skirt, "I guess you'll just have to do your best to act the part, then." It took Spot an extra second to realize who he was talking to, and that it actually _was_ the same girl he had kissed in an alley only a few days ago. There was faint make up around her eyes, and in a lady's shirt and skirt Artemis looked like any other girl who walked the streets by day.

"Act? I'm always a gentleman to goils. Especially Brooklyn ones," Spot scoffed, offering his arm. Artemis gave him a brief look that was a mixture of exasperation and hurt.

"Right," she said, swallowing. "Brooklyn." She linked her arm through his stiffly and pointed down the street. "We have to go this way. It's part of _my_ act. And _don't_ call me by name while you're with me."

**Artemis POV**

_Brooklyn._

What, so I wasn't "Brooklyn" anymore? I had been living here just as long as any other ragamuffin they'd picked up, if not longer. Was it the fact that I had grown up on the border of Queens? I might have been tiny, lost, and prone to obliviousness, but I sure as hell knew where I had grown up, and that was in Brooklyn!

I really never should have made that bet with Cowboy. Ugh. I should've just come over here first, gotten in anonymously, and worked with the girls. Then none of this would've happened. Spot would just be my boss, not my…whatever he was now.

Spot was courteously holding his arm with mine wrapped around it; it wasn't too close to his body, or too far away. Although he wasn't looking at me, I could tell. If he were, he would've tripped over that upturned brick. Ah, who am I kidding? He's good enough to _dance_ down these streets while only looking at a girl if he wanted to. I blew my breath upwards, as if trying to clear the bangs from my face, not glower at the boy walking next to me.

**Spot POV**

Spot stiffened at the sight of an officer strolling along the end of the street. His figurative hackles had been up since the strike had started, and especially since that horrible turn of events in Manhattan the other night.

_The hall was filled with the smell of sweat, the smell of fear. Cries of agony and shouts of anger echoed throughout the chaos. The Bulls swarmed all over, thrashing at flailing limbs with wooden sticks that felt as heavy as lead. Each swing felt like your entire body had been hit with a bullet. One of them raised his baton, intent on the small frame trapped under the bar. Spot roared and-_

"Good evening, Thomas!" Artemis called cheerily, waving to the guard – a feat slightly hampered by the basket she was carrying. Spot looked down to see a genuine smile spreading across Artemis's face. There was a touch of wistfulness as she looked down the street, and her shoulders fell into a relaxed slump. Clearly, this was someone she trusted, or knew at the very least.

"Evening miss!" the officer called, waving. He stopped to squint down the street. Spot could see even from a distance that he – Thomas – was young, probably hardly in his thirties. A significant part of Spot sniffed in disdain that someone only a little older than him would chose such a life, but at the same time he knew that not everyone had an array of choices to chose from. "Is that you, Miss Blake?"

_Blake? Wasn't that…_

"Thomas, it's night time now, not evening!" Artemis laughed. If Spot hadn't known that Artemis was a street kid and a fighter, he would have thought that this was her normal life: a well-dressed, happy servant to an upper class family, with hardly a care in the world. A girl, content in with her role. Probably also looking for a husband, considering her age.

Why did that bother him?

"How long's it been since I last saw you, miss?" Drawing closer, Spot observed ruddy red hair hidden beneath the awkward cap, cheerful brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across the nose – most likely the result of working the long summer days. Artemis had some, too. More that she'd had at the beginning of the summer. Artemis's face, however, held none of the lines Thomas's face held. At a rough guess, Spot would put him around thirty one or thirty two years of age.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Artemis sighed. "My apologies for that, but Thomas?" Thomas cocked his head to the side. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lianne?"

_Lianne? Lianne Blake? But that was her mother's name…_

"Eh-hem, yes…of course, Miss," Thomas said gruffly. His eyes flicked briefly to Spot, who straightened and prepared his best glare in the back of his mind. "And who might your escort be tonight?"

Spot's shoulders immediately squared and tensed as his eyes snapped to the face that had been cheerfully clear just seconds before. Young he might be, but this Thomas was no fool. Spot's right hand started inching towards his cane, as-

"This is Daniel," Artemis said cheerfully, the name falling naturally from her lips as she placed her left hand on Spot's. Spot's eyes betrayed him as they riveted to the freckled face that was still open and relaxed. "Daniel Conlon. He's a family friend and was nice enough to walk with me on my errands." Artemis turned to Spot, still smiling, although her eyes were silently begging him.

Begging for what?

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Conlon," Thomas said, extending a hand. Spot snapped out of his reverie and firmly grasped the hand offered. A slight contest of strength passed between the two before Thomas quirked an eyebrow and Spot smirked. They let go of the other as Artemis just rolled her eyes.

"Now that I assume you two are done acting like thirteen-year-old boys," Artemis huffed in fake annoyance, "I need to get back to my work. Be seeing you, Thomas." Thomas tipped his hat and walked on.

Once they were out of earshot, Spot looked at Artemis questioningly, but her eyes were focused ahead on the streets. They were in the middle of crossing when Spot decided his curiosity would not be satisfied unless he got a few answers.

Before he could open his mouth, Artemis said without looking at him, "Before you ask, yes that was my mother's name he used, and no I will not answer any more questions. Now turn here."

Spot didn't get the chance to say he was grateful that Artemis hadn't used his street name. Or worse, Jonathan.

They continued on in relative silence for a few more blocks before Artemis led Spot between two buildings and up a flight of rickety stairs that clanked with each step. Spot was faintly reminded of how Cowboy had told him that he would sometimes sleep on the stairs outside of Sarah's room. Spot had always found that more than a bit odd. Didn't all three of the Jacobs children sleep in the same room? Most importantly, wasn't the Walking Mouth in there?

Two sharp raps on the door and a click of keys later, and Artemis was slightly dragging Spot into the apartment. Lights were on and the smell of something cooking wafted from the small kitchen area – the only area that appeared to not be covered in books.

"I'm home, big brother," Artemis called out, tugging off the brown wig. A small "ouch" fell from her lips as she winced at a particularly sharp pull of the pins. Spot started to reach out to help when Ben appeared through a doorway. He was wearing an apron over his dress shirt – the sleeves rolled up – and pants. Even his tie was still on. He rolled his eyes at Artemis's impatience.

"No, no, no, not like that!" Ben sighed in exasperation. "You'll ruin the damn thing and I'll have to take it out of your prize money." Artemis wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. It was a habit that had always made Spot laugh on the inside.

Spot stepped back, unsure of where he was supposed to be as Ben expertly and deftly removed the pins from Artemis's hair before gently pulling off the wig. The two chatted back and forth about the two heists Artemis had pulled off. The gentleness of Ben's actions and words were in direct contrast with the harshness and power he had used on Spot earlier. Spot bristled angrily inside, but kept his face carefully blank as he observed the apartment. Artemis's eyes flicked briefly to Spot's face before she disappeared into what was presumably her room. Even without the wig, she was lovely. Wait, who said that?

Ben beckoned Spot over. Spot took his time walked to the cluttered table. There were, of course, books along with plates, silverware, a magnifying glass, a butterfly's wing in glass, and a quill pen to name a few things. Ben was rummaging in a small drawer. Finally he held up a small package and threw it to Spot. It fit neatly in his palm as he caught it, and had the unmistakable feel and jingle of coins. Spot looked inside. He would have gasped, if that had been his kind of thing. Instead, he held it back out to Ben.

"I can't accept this," Spot said. His hand was still in the air, but Ben ignored him and went back to the stove.

"Of course you can," Ben scoffed. "You're in the middle of a strike. I'm sure you need money for all your little friends, if not for yourself." Now _that_ Spot could not argue with. Not everyone sold equally, and some were already hurting pretty bad for money.

"You don't like what we're doin'?" Spot asked as he tucked away the package. Ben gave him a measured look.

"I think what you're doing is noble and for a good cause, but you're doing it all wrong. Then again, you're still children and children are meant to stumble around for a while. Pass me the cumin." Ben pointed to a spice rack full of labeled bottles. Spot found the one labeled "cumin" in block letters and passed it to Ben.

"We're not children. Not all of us." Ben barked a laugh. It sounded harsh and dark.

"Being an adult has nothing to do with age, Spot," Ben sighed. "I've seen people come in who are older that I would ever care to be, and they're just like the children you take in. Yes, I know you do that," he smiled as Spot looked elsewhere. "That's one thing I can admire about you, although if you have screwed up my little sister anymore than she already is…" He proceeded to come up with a threat so vulgar Spot wouldn't have been surprised if little old ladies were fainting all over the city.

Spot looked carefully at Ben. "I haven't done anything."

Ben rolled his eyes and extinguished the flame on the stove before propping his hand on his hip and facing Spot fully.

"Look, I'm going to give you some help on this since you're obviously too dense to ask for it yourself," he growled. He pointed in the direction Artemis had gone. "My older brother found that girl when she was about seven years old and her mother had recently passed. She was wearing a little pink dress the night my brother found her, just as she was about to start wandering into the gambling districts." Spot sucked in a breath. He knew those streets, and they were no place for a small child. They were full of muggers, rapists, thieves…

"When Brett asked where her mom was, she just said that they had put her mom in the ground a few days ago, and she was looking for someone to help her find her. She said that her dad made her mom be put in the ground. Later we found out what she meant: her father's a bit of an alcoholic, and they ran out of money. So when her mom go sick…," Ben trailed off, a look of revulsion passing over his face. "Anyway, the dress she was wearing that night? Nice stuff. Not something you'd expect a kid in her situation to be wearing. Turns out her father gambled and won. I heard he won a good sum of money, too. Too bad he couldn't have won like that for her mom, huh?

By the way, have you ever looked inside that little locket of hers? On one side's a painting of her mother, and on the other is a tiny photograph of our brother. Her father had that made and painted for his daughter. But when his wife died, he tried to take it from her, since it was the only way he could see his wife again. They look almost exactly alike, y'know, Artemis and Lianne. That's part of the reason why she uses that name for some jobs. I digress…

Artemis started living here that night. Brett taught her everything she knew. In a way, she was a bit of a godsend for him. He was just barely twenty, and estranged from our parents. He turned all his anger at them into passion for caring for a child. He decided that he would teach her everything – languages, grammar, literature, arithmetic, thieving, dancing – anything he could find an instructor for, so that she would always be able to support herself. Although she really sucks at math. And I can't say she picked up everything, but her dancing is really good. He had also been getting a bit into the underground, and Artemis was the perfect kid to learn all the tricks of the trade, and then some."

"So where is he now? If this Brett character raised her, why are you living here?" Spot asked. He expected something along the lines of "oh, he moved" or that he was traveling at the moment. What he wasn't prepared for was the cold, hard, bitter mask that Ben's face turned into.

"He was shot, a couple years back. He and Artemis were walking, on their way to a job. They saw a couple drunks arguing outside a bar, starting to get violent. Brett stepped in and tried to calm them down. He'd always been good at things like that – calming people down, talking them into doing something else – and if that didn't work, he'd just knock 'em out since he was that good. Too bad he wasn't strong or fast enough to stop at bullet at point blank. Brett was shot in the back as he was turning from one guy to the other.

That guy's in jail now. Been there a little while. It took a while to find him, but Artemis remembered who he was. I don't think you forget something like that, the face of the person who killed a piece of your family. But it still won't bring our brother back.

She's been through a lot, Artemis. But she still smiles about things, feels emotions, and goes out into the world. I haven't seen her run from much since the first time I met her and she hid behind my big brother. So if you've hurt her in some way that makes her stop smiling, I will make sure you wish you'd never been born in Brooklyn."

* * *

**Whew, this chapter was hard to write. I hope you enjoyed getting into Spot's and Ben's heads a little bit. I've been dying to write from both of their perspectives for a while, especially Ben's. He's not as nice as he might have you think. But he does love his little sister, so don't mess around with her or else! ;)**

**Q&A time!**

**Eavis: You are a lovely person for reading and being the first to review almost every single time! And yes, Artemis is becoming less of my own character and more of her own person with each chapter. I guess that 's the mark of a good character?**

**Austra: Thank you for your enthusiasm! I will continue...although most likely slowly ;_;**

**tartar sauce: Any names here are not really meant to reference any real people (besides those in the movie, obviously) although some accidents may happen. Although I can say that I have no idea who this American Idol person is. I don't really enjoy television. Also, do you like tartar sauce?**

**Butterflywriter: some of her past! Huzzah! I've been trying to sneak it in here and there, but Spot can be such a butt that Ben had to tell him. It was going to happen sooner or later.**

**lovingstories: this is something I've heard from quite a few people, actually, that I "should keep it SpotxArtemis because PiratexArtemis wouldn't work" or something along those lines. Honestly, my response to that is well, this is a story I started because I have a hard time finding any SpotxOC stories I really like. Although ArtemisxPirate could work in its own way, just because of the dynamic of the characters. You haven't seen all of Pirate yet! ;)**

**youwillneverknowme1: Question for you: How did you read all of this in an hour? :O I am impressed.**

**As always, much love,**

**Saya**


	19. Spork

**Oh hey! I finally updated! Kinda feels like these stories are my zombie babies. _ **

* * *

**Ch 19 – Spork **

Oh, Ben.

I mean, what else do you say about your big brother when he's spilling your story to the boy whom you are currently not sure how to feel about? I think that's what he's doing anyway. All I've heard so far is "if you've hurt her…" something something I couldn't make out through the wall. Spot at least doesn't know that my room's right next to the kitchen.

I took a deep breath to steady myself and leaned my forehead against the cooler wood of the door. Back in pants and a loose shirt, with the face paint off, I felt more like myself. Walking home with Spot had been…nerve wracking, to say the least. Worst of all, I didn't even know if he was okay with me calling him Daniel. I had just guessed that he wouldn't want to be called Jonathan, and calling him Spot while the strike was going on and_ to a police officer_ also seemed like a bad idea.

So I went with Daniel. Daniel Conlon.

Honestly, it sounded a lot nicer than all that pretentious shit. I can't imagine the weight of carrying an inherited name around. Oh wait…

"Ben! I'm starving! Feed me!" I hollered, exiting my room and rounding the corner. They had clearly been in a face off – which was dumb, because Spot and I aren't anything anymore – but Ben turned around with an easy smile that looked like Brett's. Spot shifted uncomfortably by the spice rack. Wow, Ben must've really said something good. I'd have to ask later.

"Didn't you eat earlier, baby sister?" Ben asked affectionately. I wrinkled my nose at his pet name.

"Those were snacks, and you've been cooking. Feed me," I demanded again. I held eye contact with Ben while Spot cast his gaze around the apartment. I narrowed my eyes as Ben quirked an eyebrow. Eventually he rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove.

"Here, grab a plate and some pasta. Tonight's spaghetti night," Ben said. He absentmindedly scooped up a full plate and covered it in the meaty sauce. I spied mushrooms in the sauce, too. Ben knows I hate them.

"Here Spot," Ben offered. Spot started and looked at Ben confusedly. He eyed the food almost warily. Considering all that Ben had probably put him through tonight, I wasn't surprised.

"What?" Spot asked carefully, his trademark sarcastic drawl leaking through the edges.

"It's food. You eat it," Ben said, just as sarcastically, still holding out the plate. "Forks are in that drawer," he gestured with a finger, "and you can shove whatever off the table. Now hurry it up, my arm's getting tired." (Such a lie, he cooks, cleans, chops, and lifts things all day. No way he's tired from holding a plate for five seconds.)

Spot seemed to catch on, as he said, "No thanks." Then, after a pause, "I don't like mushrooms."

Also a lie, I've seen him eat them before. Although, maybe someone had dared him to do it.

Ben quirked an eyebrow in an "oh don't tempt me" look. "So pick 'em out. It's what Shorty does every time." I scowled.

"Don't call me 'Shorty,' Ben," I muttered. "I'll soak ya." A shimmer of something that almost looked like pride flashed through Spot's eyes and was gone. Ben was still holding out the plate, and Spot still had his hands in his pockets. I never really noticed before, but that key of his hangs in the perfect spot (hehe) on his chest…

"An' I need ta get back," Spot finished.

Ben shrugged and went to fish out a fork. "Alright then. Nice doing business with you."

Spot muttered something that sounded like "I'd like to do 'business' with _you,_" (but I couldn't be sure) before tipping his hat and walking out. Since Ben had gone to grab a fork, Spot was forced to walk right by me in the small kitchen. I squeezed myself against the wall until I thought I would _turn into_ the wall. All that was left when the door clicked shut was the smell of kitchen spices, ink, river water, and a faint hint of soap. Spot must've gone swimming earlier and washed up after. Not that I'd know something like that or anything.

Ben looked at me with raised eyebrows – he seems to do that a lot – and offered me a fork. I accepted with a sigh and dished up some dinner. Those were totally snacks earlier. The sound of books thumping to the floor – he should really be more careful – was heard as the spaghetti pooled onto my plate.

We ate in mostly silence, with only the sound of a fork scraping against the plate occasionally making one of us cringe. When we were both nearly done Ben asked,

"So, are you going to follow him?"

I sighed. "I don't even know if I should, Ben. I mean…he wouldn't really look at me on the way over, he didn't talk…"

"That could've just been because you were giving directions," Ben stated sensibly. I shrugged.

"I ran into Thomas." Ben's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair that had started falling into his face again. His brown eyes sparked with curiosity and mischief.

"And how did that go?" His tone of voice implied a showdown. [Eyeroll.]

"It was fine. I had to give Spot a different name."

"Why ever would _you_ of all people _have to do_ something like _that_?" Ben drawled.

"_Ben._ They're on _strike_ right now. The whole friggin' city's probably got reason to arrest any one of them! Especially, Spot! He's the leader of a whole borough for cryin' out loud!" Yeesh, you'd think someone as smart as my big brother would understand this kind of stuff.

"Exactly," Ben said, pointing at me with his fork "Spot's gypped you, and you want to protect him? Girl, I thought we taught you better than that." He picked up the last of his spaghetti and finished it before taking a long sip of his wine. I put my fork down, no longer very hungry, before trying to explain.

"Big brother, I can't just sell out an _entire borough_ just because one stupid boy is acting dumb," I said exasperatedly, trying to give Ben my best "duh" face. Ben smiled at me.

"You've grown up," he said, his voice full of pride. "Used to be if a boy made you mad, you'd make him regret it. And in more ways than one." I cringed.

"I'd like to think that I've grown up a little bit more than _that_." I sighed. "I don't know…I'll go talk to him eventually. It's not right, or fair, to have Emotions be our go between."

"Maybe you should just punch him in the face," Ben pondered. He sounded almost wistful, like he wished he could do it himself. My nose wrinkled so hard at the thought that it almost got stuck.

"Yeah, uh, don't think that would go well," I retorted. "Now, I need some sleep. Everyone's gathering in Manhattan tomorrow to try and figure out another way to get Jack back. G'night." Ben waved to me as I retreated with my thoughts to my room.

Punch Spot in the face. I mean really! The last time I'd done something like that, I'd been fifteen.

I was asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

_ "You're rather cold for a girl, you know," the boy informed me, his usually well-bred polite tones clipped as his brown eyes glowered from under well-trimmed brown bangs. Normally he looked so dapper in his home, especially against the dark polished wood of his own personal study (a gift from his grandfather, he'd once proudly told me). But now disgust warped and distorted his normally pretty, smiling face into a twisted mask of hate. The tight curls of his hair were transformed into monster who's smoky body was clinging desperately to his scalp._

_ 15 year old me stared, bored, back up at the accusatory eyes. Part of my mind, realizing that this was a dream, settled back to watch the theatrics that were about to ensue._

_ "So…do ya want an apology or sumthin'?" I had asked, purposely speaking in a manner similar to those of the docks to oppose his clean speech. Hair that was close to falling over my shoulders was itching my neck, so I reached a hand up to scratch it. Halfway there, though, his hand reached out to smack mine away. I glared, angered that this half-wit would think to interrupt me._

_ "See?! Do you see this?!" he cried, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You care about your _hair_ more that you care about the fact that I'm leaving you." He shook his head and ran his own hand through his hair. "You know, I don't know why I ever thought that I could win that bet with James. Honestly, do you even know how much I'm about to lo-"_

Thwack.

_ "Son of a-!"_

_ "You wanted to bet on a girl like me?" I sneered, cold ice to his raging inferno. I shook my hand – which had just connected solidly with his nose – and wiped it off on a handkerchief I'd kept in my skirt pocket. "You thought _you_ could get something more than a few kisses out of me?" The boy was scooting backwards on the seat of his neat britches. His brave escape was cut off by the solid wood of the door as his back smacked into it with another nice "thunk."_

_ "Let me tell you something, lovey," I whispered, squatting down to his level and leaning in close with one hand braced against the door. As my eyes flicked through his, they picked up traces of anger, resentment…and fear. A small inward sigh was released as the realization that yet another boy was going to end up on the list of mere playthings, not someone who could actually be a companion to me. "If you had wanted something real from me? You should have been real yourself."_

_ I walked away from the last "boy" of mine as he hurled curses and insults at me._

**Early morning, next day**

As someone who was not technically part of any borough, since Brooklyn had kicked me out and Manhattan hadn't really claimed me back, I wasn't obliged to be at the distribution center at the same time as everyone else. However, arriving "fashionably late" didn't sound as appealing in reference to a rally as to a dinner party. Plus, Manhattan was friendlier territory than Brooklyn right now.

Okay, fine. Correction: Manhattan's "_leader_" was currently a nervous pile of jelly in human form, which is easier than dealing with icy cold steel in human form.

I really need to fix this thing with Spot. Later. But before the strike ends.

Banners and picket signs were strewn around the street as the newsboys and girls rallied around the distribution center's gates. The day was sunny, with a promise of scorching heat later, but something about this crowd made it feel like my veins were filled with ice water. Maybe it was the fact that Jack's easy, always smiling, open face wasn't there at the head of the group. Maybe it was the fact that, instead, there was a pair of snapping, cold, grey eyes darting everywhere. When they seemed to spot (I need to find a better word) me, I almost turned and ran for Harlem. But no one ever accomplishes anything by just running away, so instead I turned and lost myself in the crowd of jostling bodies until I found the motley bunch that I had begun to think of as my family. Sparrow, Blade, Colt, Cat, Sparks, and even Pirate welcomed me into their odd little group as if I'd never been kicked out of Brooklyn. As if I was still truly a newsie.

The group picked up noise, turning their individual chants into a group roar as the scabbers walked out of the opening gates. Then they started to go quiet as a new boy walked to the front of the line with Weasel.

No. No, not a new boy. _Jack_. Jack stepped to the front of the line as whispers and murmurs started to ripple through the crowd, starting in the front where some had a clear view. By the time it hit those of us in the back, smaller kids were being hoisted onto shoulders to see was the hold up was. As they were lowered to the ground to pass along the news frowns of worry turned to frowns of anger.

Somewhere to my right I could hear Spot yelling at Jack, enraged that his closest friend would betray him like this. As I turned to look, I wished I hadn't. Several Manhattan and Brooklyn boys were dragging Spot back, physically restraining him from getting to Jack and carrying out the threats that everyone knew he would. Spot Conlon doesn't stand for betrayal. As he shrugged out of the hold of his restrainers, his eyes flicked over and met mine. My eyes widened as his narrowed. Spot turned back to face Jack with a sharp tug of his shirt.

David was saying something, but I couldn't hear him over the rushing roar of my blood pounding through my head. Spot was barely twenty feet from me,_ again_, and yet we weren't even _looking_ at each other. My chest tightened with either rage or remorse, it was hard to tell which. It was too much to deal with.

I know I made some excuse to my friends, because my mouth moved and my throat vibrated, but I don't know what I told them. I don't even know if I really said a proper goodbye, I just started running for Brooklyn and one of the few sanctuaries I knew of. Each slap of my feet against the pavement sounded exactly the same as a physical one.

Tired, out of breath, and feeling dangerously close to passing out from exhaustion, I crashed through the side door of a small church nestled between two shops. Well, it wasn't really nestled per se, as it took up the majority of the block it was hosted on, but it was kind of cozy in its placing none the less. Leaning against the cool marble of a nearby pillar, I slid down to the worn wooden floor of the church and let loose a few wracking sobs before settling into a quiet flow of tears.

Footsteps of feet clod in well-shod shoes echoed throughout the hall, from the ceiling whose paintings I had memorized after hours of staring at them to the tiny corner I was sitting in. It wasn't necessary to look up to see who was approaching; this church might look sizeable for something in the middle of Brooklyn, but few people actually maintained it. Besides, Father Amon always wore the same type of shoes, ever since I had first stumbled into this place eight years ago.

_"What in heaven's name is all this racket? And – oh my word, child, are you alright?"_

_ I'd glared at the slightly chubby man who was approaching my hiding space. His shirt and pants, both black, were made of a sturdy cloth; the only decorations were the brass buttons with tiny crosses. Round glasses sat in the middle of a rounded face on top of a bulbous nose. He was going bald on the top, with only some black hair shot through with white clinging to the sides of his scalp. Sturdy black shoes carried the feet that quickly shuffled towards me as kind, worried, grey eyes fixed onto my arm. It was dripping a few drops of blood onto the relatively clean floor, the results of one of my clumsy first street fights._

_ "Whaddya want old man?" I'd growled._

"Good afternoon, Father," I muttered through my stuffed up and sniffly nose. One of his warm broad hands came to rest on my shoulder. I turned my doubtless red-rimed eyes to peer at him as he squatted down next to me, his joints creaking at the effort to do so. He was also a little thinner, and his crown was almost completely bald, but that had never bothered him. Life was never kind to those who deserved it, although his eyes were just as kind as the first day I'd met him as an ungrateful little street urchin.

"My dear," he said softly, knowing that I hated when someone said "my child," eyes peering deep into mine. "What on earth has brought you here this time? I fear it is not a happy circumstance, else wise your eyes would be clear." He fished in a pocket for a handkerchief.

"Thank you," I blubbered into it, blowing my nose. After a few good honks I said, "And you're right, it's not happy news. I can't do anything right."

"Well, that's no good," came the kind reply. "Why don't we go into my office for a nice cup of tea? Then you can tell me all about it." He stood with more creaking and popping before offering me a wrinkled hand. I just shook my head and stood with another harsh honk into the handkerchief.

"Do you still take your tea the same way?" he called from the back room that held a small stove, a kettle blackened from much use, and a cupboard full of various teas. The room had been built a few Christmases after a rather generous, _anonymous_, and insistent donation to the church. My family never said thank you directly.

"With plenty of honey, yes, please," I called back, considerably less choked up. I looked around the tiny office he held. There were a few new books – mostly for the children he taught letters to – and a new landscape of a small church nestled in the countryside. After a few minutes Father Amon carefully shuffled out with matching mugs. Steam rose and curled from them, an unpleasant reminder of how hot it was outside, but the tea was welcome nonetheless. This time it was a blueberry flavor, wonderfully accented by not too much honey. I smiled.

Father Amon smiled back, his eyes crinkling into the deep laughter lines that were already there. "So tell me, what manner of terrible mischief have you gotten yourself into this time?" There was laughter in his eyes even while his eyebrows snapped together. I giggle before sipping some more of the tea.

"Just some boy troubles," I murmured, the steam curling through my eyelashes and bangs as it rose towards the ceiling. Now the eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

"My dear," Father Amon said gravely in that wise-sounding tone of his, "I should hardly think you've turned into one of those common girls whose parents drag them here for a confession after they've been rejected." I snickered evilly into my tea. Understanding and kind Father Amon might be, but long on patience for those who repeatedly threw themselves into the same kind of silly trouble he was not.

"No, no," I reassured him. "I joined the newsies this summer."

"The news-? Ah, yes. One of the younger ones is always kind enough to bring me a paper each morning."

"Yeah, well, the younger ones are the only nice ones. Their leader kicked me out."

"For what reason?"

"It's…complicated. Stuff happened."

A reproachful look crossed over Father Amon's face. "Dear girl, 'stuff' always happens, and as a result the reasons are always complicated. Now, do you think you deserved what has happened to you? Do the reasons compel this leader to act in such ways?"

I huffed at my tea, sending ripples that bumped against the porcelain and disappeared. "No. Yes. Maybe. A little of both." Father Amon's eyes crinkled up again.

"A little of both can happen. It never ceases to amaze me how people think of our world as only black and white, when there are so many beautiful shades of color all around us."

"I did something…that ended up hurting the leader. My leader. My…friend."

"And have you apologized?" Father Amon asked kindly. How he manages to never sound accusing or reproachful I'll never know.

"I'm not the only one at fault here!" I protested, forcefully placing the cup on his desk before crossing my arms and turning to stare at the painting. Spot's face as he hurled his banishment at me swam up before my eyes, causing them to prick with unshed angry tears. "He's exactly the same as me! No, he's worse! But because I'm a girl and I did this to him, suddenly it's the most terrible thing in the world. It's not fair." A sigh wafted itself over the space between us.

"Artemis, when have you ever known life to be fair?" I shrugged, still not looking into the kindly eyes that sat across from me. "I can imagine that you are feeling wronged right now, am I right?" Nod. "This might be hard to hear, but perhaps you should be the one to apologize first." This time I turned to fix Father Amon with an incredulous and angry stare.

"Me."

"Yes, my dear. You. I have never met someone your age who is as good at bringing people together-"

"You should meet some more people."

"-but who is also so very, very good at pushing people away. You need to let go of your anger, before it becomes you." There was true concern in his voice, and I reluctantly turned to face him. Tired eyes – more tired than I've ever seen – stared so deep into my mind that I thought I'd split in two. I sighed.

"I'll talk to him."

"And I'll pray for you." I rolled my eyes at that. There are things and people who are much more deserving of being prayed over.

Exiting the church, I turned as I always to look at the street sign on the corner. How fitting was it for such a nice little place to be on a street named "Pleasant"? I snorted at the thought before walking towards the docks. If I was going to talk to Spot, it would have to either be in front of everybody, or in front of nobody.

Two blocks before the docks would come fully into view, a tiny kid with flaming red hair stopped to tell me that Spot wasn't currently in Brooklyn, and that he wouldn't be back until much later. I nodded and flipped him a coin for his troubles.

"Well, might as well go and get some battle armor," I muttered to myself, headed for the restaurant.

**Much later, around 10 o'clock at night**

I eyeballed the brick wall before me with a mixture of apprehension and adrenaline. It would be a rush to break into the King of Brooklyn's room, although probably also a hell of a fight. I knew that Spot didn't sleep in the boys' main room, but a small one off to the side. It was more of a closet, really, with a cot and trunk shoved in there. The small window to it was cracked open, inviting any small breeze that might enter.

A breeze wouldn't be the only thing entering tonight.

Years of learning how to break into houses had prepared me to shimmy and scrape my way up to the second story, although months without practice made it difficult. Several times I almost slipped, unable to properly grip into the rough-cut stones. Leaning an arm on the windowsill, I scrapped open the window before pulling myself up and through. Landing lightly on the floor, careful not to squeak any floorboards, I looked to the bed where Spot wasn't sleeping. About to take a step towards the door, I felt a blade slide just under my jaw, tilting my head back.

"Tell me why I shouldn't either slit your throat or just throw your body back out this window," Spot's low and murderous voice came from behind me. He was close enough that I could smell the lingering scent of a cigarette on the breath that tickled the nape of my neck. I swallowed, licking my lips to wet them before replying to a furious King of Brooklyn.

"Because King of Brooklyn or not," I growled at him, feeling the slight jolt of surprise run through the blade at my voice, "I can take that blade from you in a heartbeat." There was a light snort.

"You break into my room, have a knife at your throat, and think it's a good idea to sass me?" Spot asked, incredulous. With a roll of my eyes I gently pushed his arm away and stepped to turn around.

"Funny how you always like to come from behind, Spot," I said. "Too afraid to face me properly? You knew exactly who was coming through your window the minute I put my hand on the ledge." Spot snorted – again – and placed the knife back under his pillow.

"You need ta leave. Now." It was an order, not a request.

"No." When Spot turned to face me, I glared back defiantly and lifted my chin. I just wished the moonlight wasn't coming in so bright, because apparently Spot doesn't sleep in much. As if hearing my thoughts, he turned and rummaged in the trunk to grab a pair of pants.

"I told you to get out of Brooklyn," Spot said as he buckled up his pants and looped the suspenders around his shoulders.

"Yeah, uh, tough. Cuz I live here." Spot glared. He marched forward the two steps it took to traverse the room to lean in close. Almost nose-to-nose, I couldn't help but remember some of the last times we had been this close. His lips, though slightly chapped, had felt so warm and inviting against mine. His tongue –

"Leave this place," Spot hissed. I quirked an eyebrow. His tongue definitely hadn't done that.

"No." As Spot lifted his head and exhaled in frustration, eyes tearing around the room for a way out, I grabbed his face and turned it back to mine. "Face me, _King_ of Brooklyn."

Spot's eyes widened in fury and he smacked my arm away. I let him have his little victory. Without another word he threw on a shirt, redid his suspenders, shoved his cap onto his head, and opened the door.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered angrily through the dark.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I muttered under my breath.

Spot lead us up another story, to a small wooden door that unlocked with one of the two keys that always hung around his neck. Not waiting to see if I was keeping up, or if I had left, Spot quietly yet angrily stomped his way up the crooked wooden stairs. Whatever else I might end up saying about him, the boy's got some skills. Hastily I followed, equally quiet. The same key opened the door at the top to reveal the dark sky. Spot marched out and disappeared.

When I emerged a moment later, he was standing by the short wall, lighting a cigarette. The small flame of the match burned just bright enough to reveal new lines of tension that hadn't been there at the beginning of the summer. Seeing me watching him, Spot scowled and threw the still-burning match on the ground, stomping on it angrily and grinding it with his toe. I crossed my arms and waited.

After a few short drags, Spot spat out, "So, why haven't you left yet?" I rolled my eyes, although he wasn't looking at me, but at a cat several roofs over.

"I live here," I reminded him in clipped tones. Spot exhaled a cloud and tapped his finger absent-mindedly against the cigarette. A tiny city breeze carried some of the smoke over to me, so I coughed and made shooing motions with my hands. Turning, a look of concern briefly crossed Spot's face before resuming its mask of betrayal.

"Why are you here," he said in clipped tones.

"We need to talk," I replied calmly, crossing my arms. The knives in my arms pressed uncomfortably against my skin, but it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as trying to reason with the pissed off newsie in front of me.

"I already said my piece, and-"

"Yes, and it was very cute, but I didn't get to say anything." Spot snorted.

"Your brother said plenty for you, don't worry," Spot drawled as he took another drag. "Something about how I'm just sore because you played my game better." He shook his head.

"Isn't that it, though?" I asked, cocking my head at him. He glared, but it didn't scare me so much anymore. "I mean, really, it's not like you're that much better than me. Frankly, you're being a bit of a sexist ass."

"Listen, Artemis," Spot growled, "I don't take kindly to people betraying my trust." I could tell he wanted to stomp forward, but the urge to just keep away must have been even stronger. I lifted my chin in a challenge. Spot barked a laugh and shook his head, turning away to keep smoking. My eyes narrowed at the display of arrogance. This was not the boy I had come to know over the summer. This was not the street kid who had led me home all those years ago. This was someone who was twisted and turned around, his head so backwards I wondered how it had gotten to be like that.

_Sorry, Father_, I thought to myself as I started closing the distance between us. Spot started to turn his head at the sound of my footsteps. _I think my way of letting my anger out is a little different than what you had in mind_.

As I stepped ever closer, Spot's eyes started to narrow and his mouth started to open (doubtless to berate me again). When the distance was a little more than another step's worth I pulled my fist back, only to let it fly with the next step right into the King of Brooklyn's jaw.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed that and will leave a review with your thoughts!**

**And everyone worrying about either ArtemisxPirate or ArtemisxSpot pairings: calm ye selves! It will be resolved! Eventually.**

**~Saya**


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